Reviews / April 16, 2019

Emperors and Jewels: Treasures of the Indian Courts from the al-Sabah Collection, Kuwait

Aga Khan Museum, Toronto, August 18, 2018 to January 27, 2019

Dagger and Scabbard, probably Deccan, first half of 17th century. Hilt: Jade, inlaid with gold set with jade and rubies. Blade: Steel. Scabbard: Wood covered in fabric trimmed with metal thread. Locket and chape: Jade, inlaid with gold set with jade and rubies. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

by Rachna Raj Kaur

The Mughal Empire had a great impact on the Indian subcontinent between the 16th and 19th centuries. Mughal emperors’ investment in the region’s artistic and cultural life brought Muslim and Hindu communities together. It is under Mughal rule that the traditions of Central Asia, India and Persia combined to form their own aesthetic traditions, and that Sikhism, the religious community into which I was born, was formalized.

The Mughals were the last rulers of the subcontinent before Britain’s colonization began with the British East India Company’s establishment in the region. This rule came with much loss for India—not only the loss of lives, land and revenue, but also of art traditions. As patrons of the arts, emperors established workshops and filled them with artisans of every speciality. Artisans were taught through familial apprenticeships: men would pass down skills and expertise to their sons. My maternal grandmother told me about how the British, demonstrating an abrupt change in prerogatives, attempted to end this tradition of inherited skills by cutting off the thumbs of carpet weavers, carvers, jewellers and other craftspeople, and by removing magnificent artworks from the country. She often reminded me that one of the largest diamonds in the world, the Koh-i-Noor, which was mined in South India and initially belonged to the Mughals, is now part of the British Crown Jewels, and that both India and Pakistan still claim rightful ownership.

I imagined I would see a variety of necklaces, rings and functional objects like mirrors, trays and boxes—maybe some bejewelled daggers. But I was disappointed.

With my grandmother’s stories about her love of objects, jewellery and gems from the Mughal period in mind, I went to see “Emperors and Jewels: Treasures from the Indian Courts from the al-Sabah Collection, Kuwait” at the Aga Khan Museum last fall. The items in this exhibition were selected from a large collection of calligraphy, carpets, coins, miniatures, woodwork and metalwork now housed in the Kuwait National Museum. Originating as a hobby collection started by Sheiks Nasser and Hussah Sabah al Salem al Sabah in 1975, the collection grew over the years as additions were made to highlight the many artistic and intellectual achievements of Muslims from various periods and regions.

Knowing the grandeur of the Mughal period, characterized by monarchy and military rule, and the patronage of the arts it fostered, I expected to see a splendid collection of objects at the Aga Khan Museum. During the Mughal Empire, artisans served at the leisure of the emperor and his wives, and the emperor’s artistic direction determined what was made. So, while I did not expect artists to be credited, or much to be revealed about their lives and conditions, I imagined I would see a variety of necklaces, rings and functional objects like mirrors, trays and boxes—maybe some bejewelled daggers. I also assumed I would learn about how these objects were made, and the role they played in the daily lives of their owners.

But I was disappointed by what I experienced. Though the objects were beautiful, they were not as grand as I had envisioned: the exhibition was dominated by daggers and hilts, and there was little provided in the way of context. Inhabiting a large room on the second floor of the museum were 90 items from the al-Sabah Collection, one from the David Collection and seven miniatures from the Aga Khan Museum. Glass boxes enclosed the objects; miniature paintings from the Aga Khan Museum collection hung adjacent to their 3-D enlargements that blurred the detail and brushstrokes for which the originals are known. I left feeling unsettled, thinking only about the violence of the Mughal period—violence and bloodshed for the sake of hunting and empire expansion.

Genealogical Chart of Jahangir (signed by Dhanraj), Agra, India, 1610–23. Opaque watercolour, ink and gold on paper. © Aga Khan Museum.

At its height, the Mughal Empire was one of the wealthiest regions in the world. It was the emperor Shah Jahan who commissioned the Taj Mahal, a mausoleum for his wife Mumtaz Mahal that also symbolized the empire’s grandeur and strength. Under Shah Jahan, riches were drained into large-scale building projects aimed at establishing Delhi as the new capital. In order to sustain his lifestyle, Shah Jahan raised taxes, but governance loosened when he neglected to invest in local economy and industry. What was once an innovative and collective society quickly unravelled. While religious harmony characterized much of the Mughal period, the last two Emperors began to assert Islamic rule as a means of power by killing Hindus and desecrating Hindu temples and sites as the wealth evaporated. The ensuing fracture in the empire allowed for the British and French to gain control of the region.

The Mughal period was a complex time and, accordingly, I feel very conflicted as I view its remnants. On their surface, these objects with their pearls, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds, rubies, detailed engraving and intricate enamel work, are magnificent. At the time, they were worn as adornments, and their excess signified the wearer’s wealth and status. From oral histories in my family, I’ve learned that these were often objects of intimidation, and that their weight and size, their shine and glisten, imposed authority over those who did not have the means, or access, to own them. In a culture where those of greater means were more deserving of power and respect, these objects demanded fear and respect of their owners.

Along with necklaces, earrings, bracelets and rings, it was usual for daggers to be worn by men. The range of artistic styles of daggers displayed at the Aga Khan Museum are the kind often secured at the waist for easy access. They were also used for hunting, a frequent pastime of emperors and their ambassadors. While these daggers may have been used to kill animals rather than people, for me they conjure violence-filled images.

In my opinion, “Emperors and Jewels” was a missed opportunity to reflect on an era when art flourished, and to present the lasting impact of culture fostered under the Mughal Empire. The Aga Khan Museum serves a purpose similar to that of the al-Sabah Collection—to maintain the image of Islamic civilization through the arts—and this exhibition tells a version of history, one that, given the current anti-Muslim climate, is important. But it also neglects to include the histories of non-Muslim communities living under the Mughals. Instead of integrating the intersecting histories of non-Muslims, this exhibition omitted those histories by glorifying aspects of its artistic production in an uncomplicated way.

Several weeks after my visit, I cannot shake the unsettled feeling brought on by these objects of violence, objects used to impose fear at sight and pain on contact. Even in display cases, behind glass, positioned passively, they felt threatening. Historically, Western arts institutions have reinforced centres of power by misrepresenting the stories of marginalized communities. Had the Aga Khan Museum presented a more balanced narrative of the objects and their impact on all people during the Mughal Empire, they could have spoken more meaningfully to a dynamic time in history. Without a fuller context for their cultural significance, these objects become merely a collection of souvenirs.

Dagger, Northern India, first half of 17th century. Hilt: Jade, carved, gold halter (later addition). Blade: Steel. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Dagger, Hilt: Northern India or Deccan, early 17th century. Emerald, carved and drilled. Ferule and blade: perhaps Deccan, 17th century. Steel, iron cut. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Royal Spinel, Central Asia, Iran, and India, mid-15th–mid-18th century. Spinel (249.3 carats), engraved. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Cup, India, late 16th century. Jade, set with ruby, emerald, sapphire, and dark sapphire-blue and emerald-green transparent glass. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Dagger Sash-Cord Ornament, Northern India or Deccan, probably first half of 17th century. Jade, inlaid with gold, set with rubies and with diamond, pearl, coral, zircon, blue sapphire, cat’s eye chrysoberyl, yellow topaz and emerald. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Insignia (Mahi-o Marateb), Northern India or Deccan, 17th century. Silver, hammered, repoussé, engraved, and gilded; rock crystal eyes. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Royal Spinel, Central Asia, Iran, and India, mid-15th–mid-18th century. Spinel (249.3 carats), engraved. © The al-Sabah Collection, Dar al-Athar al-Islamiyyah, Kuwait. Courtesy Aga Khan Museum.

Rachna Raj Kaur

Rachna Raj Kaur has a Bachelor of Arts in Art History from the University of Toronto. Her writing has appeared in NOW Magazine, Lez Spread The Word, Kala Magazine and Xtra.

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