The Surat Raid

Last night Shivaji struck the Mughal general in his own bedroom. Tonight he strikes at something an empire cares about even more: its money. This is a famous story, but not a gentle one — so, just as we did at Javali, we are going to tell it honestly.

Why money? Because armies, horses, cannon and forts all cost a great deal, and an empire like the Mughals' was strong because it was rich. And for three long years Shaista Khan's soldiers had been taking from Shivaji's lands — raiding villages, burning fields, carrying off what they pleased. So Shivaji decided to answer by striking at the place where the emperor's riches flowed in.

That place was Surat, far to the north in Gujarat, on a river near the sea. It was the greatest port of the whole Mughal empire. Ships came there from Arabia, Persia, Africa and Europe; pilgrims sailed from there to Mecca; its warehouses were stuffed with silk, cotton, spices, pearls and gold. Some of the richest merchants on earth lived in Surat — one of them, Virji Vora, was called by the English "the richest merchant in the world."

Surat had another name, too: people called it the "Gate of Mecca," because it was from Surat that the great ships carried pilgrims across the sea to Mecca. A strong stone castle guarded the river, and the emperor's officials collected taxes on every bale and barrel that came off the ships. Every day, Surat poured money into the Mughal treasury.

But Surat was a very long way off — a great journey north, right through the emperor's own lands. So Shivaji gathered a force of fast horsemen and rode secretly and swiftly. Hardly anyone knew where he was heading, until, in the first days of January 1664, his riders suddenly appeared outside Surat.

The accounts say that Shivaji first sent word into the city, to the governor and to the richest merchants, demanding that they come out and pay him — and warning that if they did not, the city would be plundered. No one came.

The governor of Surat, a man named Inayat Khan, should have defended his city. Instead, he fled into the city's castle and shut the gates behind him — leaving the townspeople to face the raiders on their own.

For several days, Shivaji's men went from one great mansion to the next, the houses of the wealthiest merchants, carrying away gold, silver, pearls and fine goods. There was so much treasure that it had to be loaded onto horses and bullocks. It was wealth that would pay soldiers and build forts for swarajya.

Not everyone was taken by surprise. English and Dutch traders had "factories" in Surat — big trading houses with storerooms and offices. The English barricaded theirs, armed the sailors from their ships, and defended it so stoutly that the raiders left them alone; the Dutch, too, held firm behind their walls.

A few acts of mercy were written down by people who were there or who heard about it soon after. A French traveller recorded that Shivaji spared the house of a Christian priest, Father Ambrose, because he was a good man who helped people, and also the house of a merchant who had died, because he had been famous for his kindness and charity. And an English prisoner, Anthony Smith, was set free when it turned out that he was a poor man.

There was danger too. A messenger came from the governor, saying he wanted to talk — and suddenly he lunged at Shivaji with a hidden blade! Shivaji's bodyguards struck him down at once. Angry after this treachery, the raiders punished some of their prisoners very harshly.

Now for the hardest part, and you deserve to hear it. A raid is a terrible thing for a city. Fires broke out and spread, and a great part of Surat burned. Many ordinary people — not only the rich — lost their homes, and lived through days of terror; some were treated cruelly to make them reveal where their money was hidden.

Try, just for a moment, to imagine being a child in Surat that week: smoke in the sky, strangers on horseback in the street, your parents frightened and whispering. That child did not choose the war between the emperor and Shivaji. Remembering that child, too, is part of telling the story honestly.

You may hear people say that at Surat Shivaji "spared the poor." The truth is more mixed than that: a few people were spared, and many ordinary people suffered. Shivaji's side saw the raid as a blow against the emperor's treasury in a hard war. The people of Surat remembered it as a disaster. Both of those things are true at once — and we would rather tell you the real story than a too-perfect one.

Before the Mughal armies could arrive, Shivaji's riders were gone, heading south with their treasure. The news raced all the way to the emperor, and stung him again: first his own uncle attacked in his bedroom, now his richest city emptied. Aurangzeb decided he must send his very best general to deal with Shivaji once and for all. That is tomorrow night's story.

So tonight leaves us with two lessons. One is about strategy: to fight a giant, strike at what feeds it. The other is about being honest: even a great hero's choices can hurt people who did nothing wrong, and remembering them is part of telling history truly.

Goodnight — tonight's badge: khajina, "the treasury" — an empire runs on money, and so does a kingdom; and every treasure has a cost, sometimes paid by others.