Plateau's Republics

A narrative history of the Deccan traces the lives of forgotten kings and warriors who shaped the landscape.

- Vaisakh E. Hari

IN THE RUINS of Hampi in Karnataka, even the weeds sprout diffidently, as if weighed down by the scars of a violent past. The capital of the famed Vijayanagara empire was, in the words of Nobel laureate V.S. Naipaul, a kingdom awaiting conquest. It was the land of untold riches, where precious stones were traded in open markets, a civilisation at its zenith, gripped by a fatalistic fervour that presages extinction. In its afterlife, the empire mutated into a political entity—a Hindu paradise on the wrong side of the Tungabhadra river, that barbaric Muslim invaders laid to waste.

Young historian Manu S. Pillai, in his latest book Rebel Sultans, reanimates the Deccan, the history of which is often conflated with the rise of Shivaji. Nothing could be a graver injustice, argues Pillai, as he dives headfirst into the history of forgotten men who shaped the landscape much before the famed Maratha warrior took his baby steps. In his retelling, Pillai explores the rich tapestry of historical figures with nimble prose that in no way compromises on academic rigour; the result is an enjoyable, illuminating journey into the middle India of yore. “In the Deccan, I don’t want to focus yet again on the Mughals and the Marathas. I would rather write about the rich historical figures who

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