Treasure Seekers: Empires of India

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India a land of seductive riches,

land of the Kohinoor diamond

a priceless gem which legend says

was given by the god Krishna

to test mankind's greed.

Possessed of such wealth and beauty,

thought Krishna, would men

behave like beasts?

or would they think and

achieve wisdom?

This is the story of India

and its conquerors.

One stormed south

across the mountains,

one came from across the seas,

both were hungry for wealth

and dominion.

Each would become his own answer to

Krishna's question

wise man or beast?

For three hundred years the

Mughal empire dominated India.

It was a Mughal emperor who created

the radiant mountain of white marble

called the Taj Mahal,

one of the wonders of the world.

The wealth and sophistication of

the Mughal court were legendary.

Here, Mughal kings ruled

from the famous peacock throne

made of gold, rubies and sapphires.

All these treasures of

the Mughal empire

were the legacy of one remarkable

man, a poet, a killer,

a wild nomad who was not

from India at all.

His name was Babur.

Babur's life began in 1483

in Fergana,

a small kingdom in the highlands

of central Asia.

Fergana was one square of a

bloodstained checkerboard

of competing dynasties,

each struggling to expand

its little empire.

But a little empire wasn't

what Babur had in mind.

Babur's dynasty was part Turk

and part Mongol

"Mughals" as the Persians

called them.

Babur was a direct descendant

of the two greatest conquerors of

Central Asian history,

Genghis Khan

and Timur or Tamerlane.

He wanted something that would be

worthy of their memory.

From the very beginning,

Babur tried to take inspiration

from Genghis and Timur.

These were his two heroes.

And it was probably this reason

which had, at times, goaded him

to think of India as

his final destination.

Born to nobility,

at 11 Babur inherited Fergana.

Almost immediately other warlords tried

to take it away from him.

Not surprisingly for one so young,

the fortunes of war started to

turn against him.

Before long, he had lost much of

his kingdom and his men

deserted in droves to hitch their

fortunes to more promising leaders.

All seven or eight hundred of

my lords and warriors deserted me.

It was a terrible blow.

I remember, I couldn't help crying.

He was only fifteen.

It was a harsh education which made

young Babur's heart ache.

But his early failures toughened him.

If you desire to rule and conquer,

you don't just fold your hands

when things go wrong you act.

Action meant war.

And with whichever followers

he could muster,

he started to wage guerrilla warfare

against his more powerful neighbors.

He and his men seesawed

between victory and defeat.

Allies deserted him;

enemies became allies.

One day in 1501, he laughed

when he realized

a sword he had given to an ally as a

token of loyalty one year,

was the same one that almost split

his skull in battle the next.

My own soul is my most

faithful friend.

My own heart, my truest confidant.

Always, Babur's ambition was to found

a great dynasty like his ancestors.

He needed children who would be

his heirs.

He admitted he was so shy

as a young man,

his mother and sisters had to bully

him into sleeping with his first wife.

But before long he had more wives,

and a son, Humayun,

on whom the weight of Babur's dreams

would fall.

With his succession assured,

the question that now dogged him was:

what would he leave his sons?

He had lost his kingdom and was

being shut out of Central Asia.

So where was the land in which

his dynasty could flourish?

Slowly, Babur's reputation as

a warlord was growing

and with it the perception that

he might be a future ruler after all.

Lured by the promise of

conquest and booty,

warriors of other dynasties began to

join him.

In 1504, Babur's fortunes took a

decisive turn for the better.

He caught wind of tumult in the

Afghan kingdom of Kabul to the south.

Here, he thought, was a chance.

At the age of 21,

Babur rode out of the mountains

with his small band of men

and raced toward Kabul.

Warriors joined him as he approached

and they swept into the city.

The battle for Kabul was short

and Babur triumphed.

As he settled into his new home,

Babur immediately fell in love

with Afghanistan,

its cool climate, and the beautiful

rivers of its fresh upland plateaus.

Kabul signified a new beginning,

an end to the years of wandering

but not, of course,

an end to his dreams of empire.

Not far to the south lay the vast,

teeming land of Hindustan, India.

He had heard many stories

of its wealth.

He realized it was now within

his grasp.

From the time I took Kabul,

I set my heart on Hindustan.

In 1504, the Indian sub continent

Was a disunited mass of

independent kingdoms and sultanates

Hindu in the south,

largely Moslem in the north.

One of the largest and most powerful

of these was Hindustan,

controlled by the sultanate

of Delhi.

Babur knew he stood no chance

of directly confronting

the armies of Hindustan.

But having taken Kabul, he lost no

time in making an exploratory raid

into the plains of northern India

just to see.

With a small army he moved

south in 1505.

He was amazed by what he found.

I had never experienced such heat

or anything like Hindustan before

different plants, different trees,

different animals and birds,

different tribes and people,

different manners and customs.

It was astonishing,

truly astonishing.

India exceeded his wildest

expectations.

He discovered beautifully

crafted textiles,

refined sugar, perfumes and spices.

Here indeed was a rich land.

As he headed back to Kabul,

his resolve to return was redoubled.

But he would have to bide his time.

For 20 years Babur

made Kabul his home.

to taste the pleasures of life.

Until now he had been a clean living

and sober young Moslem.

In Kabul all that started to change.

At that time I had not committed

the sin of drinking to drunkenness

and did not know the delight

and leisure of being drunk

as it should be known.

Here all the implements of pleasure

and revelry were ready and present.

If I didn't drink now,

when would I?

He discovered a taste for fine wines,

and the sweetmeats laced with

hashish called Ma'jun.

In Kabul he drank often.

His memoirs filled with parties,

drunkenness and head splitting

hangovers.

We drank on the boat until

late that night.

We got on our horses,

reeling from side to side,

then let them gallop free reined.

The next morning they told me I had

galloped into camp holding a torch.

I swear I didn't remember a thing,

except that when I got back to

my tent I was extremely sick.

In Kabul, Babur learned how to let go,

but he never forgot that

if he was ever to take Hindustan

his troops had to stay disciplined.

He had no qualms about

extreme punishments.

I had one of the soldiers clubbed

at the gate for stealing a pot of oil.

He died.

The others were successfully

cowed by this punishment.

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