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Journalism of Courage
The image of a Mughal woman often evokes the secluded and mysterious world of the harem, where intricate architecture, rituals, and strict rules reinforced women’s separation from the outside world. Yet, history also documents women who defied these confines, reclaiming agency and independence.
Between the 14th and 19th centuries, many Muslim women from Arabia and Asia crossed the Indian Ocean for trade, marriage, and pilgrimage. Despite this, their stories remain largely absent from historical records. Women’s Haj journeys, for instance, were rarely documented.
The surviving accounts, often centred on elite women, provide only fragmented glimpses into their lives. Still, they uncover powerful stories of women’s enduring quest for freedom and faith.
In her article Considering the Silences: Understanding Historical Narratives of Women’s Indian Ocean Hajj Mobility, Jacqueline H Fewkes critiques the portrayal of women in literature surrounding the Indian Ocean as static figures — producers of goods, wives left behind, or traders in port-based businesses. These depictions, she argues, overlook the active roles women played in this interconnected world.
One notable source, the 14th-century traveller Ibn Battuta, sheds light on women’s Haj journeys across the Indian Ocean. His writings describe women regularly undertaking pilgrimage and establishing spaces for their religious practices, such as large tents designated for women’s prayers.
The journeys of Bega Begum, Gulbadan Begum, Khadija Sultana, and Nawab Sikander Begum stand out as examples of women who broke conventions, navigating seas in pursuit of both piety and power.
A striking episode in Mughal history is the 1575 pilgrimage to Mecca undertaken by Akbar’s aunt Gulbadan Banu Begum and a group of royal women from his court. Gulbadan, the daughter of Babur and half-sister of Humayun, had long vowed to visit the holy sites but it had been delayed due to dangerous travel routes, particularly through Gujarat. Once conditions stabilised, she sought Akbar’s permission and the latter provided financial support and supplies along with approval for the journey.
The caravan, described by court historian Abul Fazl, set out on October 8, 1575. Among the women were Salima Sultan Begum, Akbar’s wife and Babur’s granddaughter, as well as Akbar’s stepsisters, cousins, and senior family members. Historian Ruby Lal, in Servants of the Dynasty: Palace Women in World History, notes that the absence of younger women reflects societal norms that prioritised their protection.
Under Islamic law, no Muslim woman could travel to the Holy Cities without a male relative so several men accompanied the group, including Babur’s cousin Abdur Rahman Beg, Akbar’s foster brother Baqi Khan and other imperial servants. Lal, in Vagabond Princess: The Great Adventures of Gulbadan, describes their caravan carrying gold-lined chests filled with valuables.
Gulbadan, in charge of the arrangements, chose a sea route through Surat, avoiding the dangerous overland path through Shi’a Iraq. Yet, the journey was fraught with challenges. From Fatehpur Sikri, the women travelled southwest toward Surat in Gujarat. As they neared Udaipur, they received warnings that the Portuguese might not honour their promised travel pass, or cartaz, which was required for safe passage.
By the early 16th century, the Portuguese had seized key ports in the Indian Ocean, threatening key cities along the Arabian Peninsula. Despite these hurdles, Gulbadan waited in Surat for nearly a year to secure the necessary pass, offering Bulsar (present-day Valsad) as collateral for Portuguese protection.
On October 17, 1576, Gulbadan and her party set sail aboard two Turkish vessels, Salimi and Ilahi, fully aware that they might never return. According to author Ira Mukhoty, in Daughters of the Sun: Empresses, Queens and Begums of the Mughal Empire, a crowd gathered at the port to witness the royal women’s departure.
The group sailed across the Arabian Sea for almost four weeks before reaching Jeddah. The voyage was perilous, with violent storms and the treacherous waters of the Sea of Berbera (now the Red Sea), infamous for its coral reefs. Despite the dangers, the women travelled in comfort, with lavishly appointed separate quarters, thanks to Akbar’s generosity. The storekeeper and cooks ensured the imperial ladies were well-fed.
From Jeddah, the road journey to Mecca took two to three more days. As they neared the holy city, the women entered the state of Ihram, the first ritual of the Haj, donning special white garments and adhering to strict codes of conduct. As Lal notes, “Now, she [Gulbadan] had the time and had reached the place where she could unravel the meaning of her journey. Her exploration had just begun.”
After nearly four years in Mecca, Gulbadan and her group were forced to depart due to the increasing burden they placed on the city’s limited resources. By mid-1580, they set out for Hindustan but were shipwrecked off Aden (in present-day Yemen), where they were stranded for seven months. They eventually reached Khanwa, 37 miles west of Fatehpur Sikri, on April 13, 1582.
Upon her return, Akbar greeted Gulbadan with great fanfare, covering the streets with silken shawls. Lal notes that Gulbadan was thereafter referred to as Nawab (ruler).
For Akbar, her pilgrimage was not only the return of a beloved relative but also a reaffirmation of his rule, reinforcing his image as a defender of Islam. Lal, in Rereading The Black Legend: The Discourses of Religious and Racial Difference in the Renaissance Empires, argues that to understand the significance of Gulbadan Begum’s Haj, it must be viewed within the broader context of the religious debates at Akbar’s Ibadat Khana, a forum for discussions among various faith representatives in the 1570s. Amid growing resentment toward Akbar’s engagement with multiple religions, Gulbadan’s pilgrimage likely helped solidify the empire’s Islamic identity.
Gulbadan Banu Begum’s Haj may not have been the first pilgrimage by a Mughal princess to the holy land, but it is one of the first to be recorded. Royal women had undertaken the Haj before, including Gulbadan’s sister-in-law Bega Begum, who earned the title ‘Haji Begum’ due to her multiple pilgrimages, as Mukhoty suggests. However, her journey did not get as much attention or detailed documentation as Gulbadan’s. Also, Gulbadan’s 1575 journey was the first time a royal party of women travelled to Mecca with such grandeur.
Individual elite women continued to embark on the Haj in later centuries. In 1661, Khadija Sultana, also known as Badi Sahiba, made her pilgrimage. As the daughter of the Sultan of Golkonda (in current-day Telangana) and widow of the ruler of Bijapur, Khadija initially faced obstacles upon arrival in Mecca, including her widowhood, which barred her entry.
Legend has it that she symbolically married a rooster she carried with her to assert her agency against social norms. Her entourage included 50-60 ladies-in-waiting and hundreds of servants, though their roles and whether they participated in the Haj remain unknown.
In the 19th century, Nawab Sikander Begum of Bhopal also undertook the Haj, offering a more documented perspective. Travelling with hundreds of women aboard a steamship, she chronicled her journey in A Pilgrimage to Mecca, providing rare insights into the evolving nature of Haj travel and highlighting the changing dynamics of mobility and agency among women in South Asia.
Gulbadan’s pilgrimage, while initially a spiritual endeavour, became a defining moment in Mughal history, reinforcing the empire’s Islamic identity and highlighting the agency of women within imperial structures. Lal captures the weight of Gulbadan’s thoughts on returning to the harem: “That freedom was not absolute; it was ‘won and lost, again and again. It is a glimpse of possibility, an opening, a solicitation without any guarantee of duration.’”
