An Empire of Complexities: Streaming the Mughals on Modern TV

The first season of “The Empire,” a new historical fiction series produced in India for the streaming service Disney+ Hotstar, tells the story of the birth of the Mughal dynasty. More precisely, it is a history of pregnancy: the time right until the birth of the Mughal Empire. Most of the episodes take place in Central Asia, where the fortunes of the Mughals under Babur ebb and flow. It is only in the final episodes that Babur and his forces reach northern India, defeat the Lodhi dynasty in the battle of Panipat (1526), and begin to establish their rule, only to be quickly weakened with the death of their skillful leader in 1530. Thus, interestingly, as an Indian show about a dynasty that conquered most of India, it is a prequel: “The Empire” tells the history of the empire’s lineage before it arrived in India.

The show has received a deluge of crushing reviews, although I decided to watch it before reading them and to work out my own opinion. Indeed, I must admit it’s not a groundbreaking show – its technical aspects, as well as the storytelling, are somewhat clumsy. And yet, I believe, at least two positive aspects make it stand out from the mainstream crowd: How it manages to balance the image of the Mughals, and how it pays more attention to the hard life of court women.

It is not my intention to present a list of historical inaccuracies. As typical for this genre, the show’s purpose is not to present a faithful chronicle of the past. What I want to focus on is not what changes have been made to history, but why they were made – and the image these modifications create.

It is not easy to dispassionately discuss the history of Muslim dynasties in India, a Hindu-majority country. The subject evokes strong emotions, not only in politics but also in pop culture and academia. It cannot be denied that lineages of Islam-professing peoples (most often Turks from Central Asia) that came to rule various territories in what is now India usually did so using brutal force, and their forms of governance often included religious persecution of non-Muslims. And yet, they left a legacy that is now part of Indian history, and as such cannot be ignored. So it was with the Mughals, who established one of the largest states in the history of India, and indeed one of the most powerful sultanates among all Muslim-ruled states that ever existed.

“The Empire” does a rather good job at neither excessively demonizing the Mughals nor overly idealizing them. While they are clearly the protagonists, they are also human, not gods-on-screen. They conquer because they think they deserve to rule. No flag of higher purpose is unfurled over their marching armies to justify their exploits. They also make mistakes, fight among themselves, and are mostly so obsessed with power that the pursuit usually makes them lose what is most precious in life.

In “The Empire,” the image of Babur is close to standing on the middle ground. He is not Akbar from “Jodhaa-Akbar,” the 2007 Bollywood movie that made Mughal Emperor Akbar (Babur’s grandson) a larger-than-life-figure of too many talents and very few vices. The film upheld a somewhat dubious vision of Akbar as an extremely tolerant ruler, who unconditionally respected all of his subjects, regardless of their social status and faith and wanted to fulfill all of their needs. The Babur of “The Empire” is also not Sultan Allaudin Khilji from the 2018 Hindi film “Padmaavat,” a figure wicked in such an awkward way that the viewer may find him as unrealistic as the angel-faced Akbar from “Jodhaa-Akbar.”

The Babur of “The Empire” is good-hearted and talented, but also obsessed with conquest. Blinded by the conviction that becoming an emperor is written in his fate, he only gets on well with those among his kin and companions who unconditionally support his ideas, even if they privately consider them folly. At the same time, it must be admitted that Babur’s image has been made more positive than negative here. When reading his memoirs, “Baburnama” – which I highly recommend, as it is one of the more sincere accounts of an emperor’s own rule – it becomes clear, for instance, that Babur could be excessively and unnecessarily cruel: Not more than other kings of his age, but more than the series admits (which is not at all). In “The Empire,” Babur is contrasted sharply by making his bête noire, Shaybani Khan, appear much more cruel and evil in comparison (indeed, Shaybani Khan of the show does resemble Allaudin Khilji of “Padmaavat”).

Some parts of the show’s narrative are incoherent. At one point, Babur suddenly starts to care about the common people of Samarkand, the city he must abandon, although nowhere else does he seem to think about the fate of the inhabitants in lands he rules or conquers. One of his final statements also hints at an Akbar-like vision of Hindus and Muslims of India as being the same people, only of different faiths; otherwise, the question of his beliefs is largely overlooked. And yet, his dream of conquering India, as portrayed in the show, is only a dream of conquest: He wants to fulfill his ambitions, to strengthen his power, and to enhance his glory; there is no higher moral ground to hold.

In the end, Babur of “The Empire” is left wondering if all of it was worth it. His pursuit left him with “no sultanate and no home either,” in his own words. The Mughal ruler eventually dies at the head of a new realm in northern India, but uncertain of its future. He dies having his lost ancestral land in Central Asia, having faced personal losses, and having sacrificed some of his closest relationships in his quest for power. Ironically, Babur, once surrounded by only a small group of loyal supporters, at the time of his death had more subjects to rule than ever before, and yet he is portrayed as dying a lonely man. His closest advisors and commanders died for his sake, while his family is being torn apart by a succession struggle, a “tradition” among Mughals. The show does not ponder what Babur’s attack on India meant for the region’s inhabitants (although the second season probably will), but it also does not tell us it was the right thing to do.

The show’s other strong side is a comparatively larger focus on the fate of female characters. Historically, one of Babur’s largest sacrifices was that of his sister, Khanzada. When besieged in Samarkand by much more powerful Uzbeks under Shaybani Khan, the Mughal leader was given a way out under certain conditions – one of them being that Khanzada would be married off to Shaybani. Babur apparently agreed, although he did not admit to this capitulation even in his memoir. Khanzada had to thus face the cruel fate of becoming a wife of her brother’s mortal enemy. She bore Shaybani a child that quickly died, was abandoned by him, and forcibly married to a man of much lower stature. And yet Khanzada survived 10 years of this ordeal to finally see luck shine on her. Her husbands died at the hands of Persians, both in the same battle. She was then freed and reunited with her true family, and even lived on to become one of the most influential figures at Babur’s court, especially after her brother’s untimely death.

“The Empire” uses a part of this historical material, and up to a certain point it does so in a largely accurate way. It also builds as much drama as possible on Babur’s dramatic decision to sacrifice his sister in order to preserve the remains of his group. But more importantly, the show, while still focused on nobles and rulers, on battles and court intrigues, and not on common people and everyday life, at least gives us a glimpse of how much women had to suffer because of the ambitions of men. Khanzada plays a similar role as Sansa Stark of “Game of Thrones”: a character who decides that instead of being dangerously obstinate in her resistance, she must accept her slave-like conditions, and build a relation with her devilish husband in order to survive. On a wider canvas, “The Empire” shows how certain women became very influential in the Mughal reign.

In the end, the show may not have the financial and technical potential to become an Indian “Game of Thrones.” When compared to many black-and-white, heavily fictionalized movies made in India on similar historical topics, however, the show has done a much better job. It reminds us that over the course of humanity’s long history, power was essential in the process of state building and violence usually was unavoidable – but this does not absolve of their sins those who used violence to attain or extend their rule.