Aleph’s ‘The Book of Indian Queens’ is a useful, engaging primer on women and power

As the book’s jacket says, “Mahasweta Devi writes about Rani Lakshmibai, Ruskin Bond tells the story of an enigmatic modern rani, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni narrates the poignant tale of the last great queen of Punjab, Rudrangshu Mukherjee describes Begum Hazrat Mahal’s role in the freedom struggle, Ira Mukhoty brings Razia Sultan to life, Manu S. Pillai chronicles the queens of Travancore, Ruby Lal provides insights into Nur Jahan, Abraham Eraly recounts the exploits of the queens of classical India, Gayatri Devi tells her own astonishing story, and Binodini and Archana Garodia Gupta relate stories of other remarkable queens from history.”

As many of the accounts are book excerpts, the chapters vary both in length and in quality, and different readers are likely to have very different favourites.
Ruby Lal’s Nur Jahan chapter packs a punch, thanks both to the tiger-hunting Mughal empress and to the delicate wealth of details the author manages to give.

Mukhoty on Razia is evocative and rich with information, though the passage goes back and forth in time and is thus not focused solely on the first woman Sultan in India.

Perhaps the most charming is Bond’s story, conjuring up the wonderous world of childhood, when a garden on a summer afternoon can hold as much mystery as a locked-up queen.

Divakaruni’s chapter on Punjab’s Rani Jindan Kaur is too short and rather abrupt. Gupta on Queen Didda offers a fresh perspective on ‘The Controversial Queen of Kashmir’, whom male historians have accused of murdering young monarchs so her regency could continue. Gayatri Devi’s autobiographical account is immensely interesting — while she is fighting an election to become a people’s representative, her vantage point is firmly in the elevated realm of Rani-hood.

Mukherjee’s chapter on Hazrat Mahal talks about her humble origins and her divorce from Awadh’s Nawab Wajid Ali Shah, while also establishing how she became “the leader of the people”.

Binodini’s excerpt on Manipur’s Princess Sanatombi is the only one dealing with royal childhood, and presents an illuminating contrast between the mutinous princess and her “girl-bearing” mother, who has learnt to conduct herself with appropriately humble discretion.

The different styles of writing in each chapter help the many stories of conflict and charisma stand out. Each of the passages is a great entry point for a deeper dive into the person, or the period. Aleph’s Olio series has tackled more subjects in a similar way — collecting writings from different authors on a common subject. Apart from queens, they have a book on Indian Kings, on “the essence of Delhi”, and on “ways of dying”, among others.

In the collection on queens, many of the writers draw attention to how unfairly their subjects have been treated by history. Mukhoty writes, “…if Raziya and her contemporaries had a gallant disregard for her gender, the same was not true of future generations.”

Gupta writes of Didda, “…her visible lust for power and snidely attributed obsession with the opposite sex, both considered admirable in men, were seen as failings and as an evil streak in a woman of her time. The innumerable lovers ascribed to her could well be due to gender bias by historians — after all, how else could a woman succeed in securing the loyalty of her ministers? Unless, of course, by witchcraft, which she was also accused of.”

Read the book for the vast sweep of time and circumstances it offers, through which stories of grit and guile, of beauty and brains, of the uniquely tenacious brand of female courage shine through.