The Second Battle of Taraori, 1192 A.D. Muslim Conquest of India

Though Islam had cast its shadow over India for centuries, it was in the wake of this monumental battle that the Islamic crescent truly ascended, establishing Muslim dominion over the land—especially in the north—where it would reign unchallenged until the twilight of the Mughal dynasty in 1857.

Taraori, 1192 A.D.
Muslim Afghan Forces: ~ 120,000
Hindu Rajputs Forces: unknown

Additional Reading and Research:

• Lane-Poole, Stanley. Medieval India under Mohammedan Rule.
• Narvane, M.S. Battles of Medieval India

Chapters

• 0:35 Islam Lands on India's Shores
• 2:01 Islam's Subdual of Sindh
• 2:52 The Conquest of India by Islam's Steppe Turks
• 5:33 Ghor's Ascendancy
• 6:22 Mohamad of Ghor
• 8:18 Prithvaraja's Hindu Response
• 11:04 Mohamad Returns to Taraori
• 13:12 Prithvaraja's Execution and Defeat
• 14:25 Expanding Islamic Dominance in India
• 14:59 Extermination of the Buddhists
• 16:29 Mohamad's Demise and the Rise of the Slave Dynasty of Delhi
• 17:19 The Mongols Invade
• 17:43 The Aftermath: Islam vs Hinduism

Transcript

Welcome to History's Greatest Battles. Season 01, Episode 14; The Second Battle of Taraori, 1192 A.D.

Muslim Afghan Forces recorded at 120,000 men, primarily cavalry.

Rajput Indian Soldiers, unknown quantity.

Though Islam had engaged in trade and smaller raids with India for centuries, it was in the wake of this monumental battle that the crescent truly ascended, establishing Muslim dominion over the land—especially in the north—where it would reign unchallenged until the twilight of the Mughal dynasty in 1857.

The first shadow of Islam fell upon India not long after the Prophet Mohammed brought forth his divine revelations. The earliest emissaries of Islam were traders, their ships skimming the northern shores of the Arabian Gulf, drawn time and again to the distant, mysterious lands of India. It was under the reign of Caliph Omar, the iron-willed successor to the Prophet, that the first martial tide surged forth in 637, driven by both a fervor to spread the faith and a hunger to claim the legendary riches that traders had whispered of for years. For the following decades, India knew only the sting of sudden raids—fleeting assaults without the ambition of conquest or the permanence of colonization. But in 712, the winds of fate shifted when Al-Hajjaj, the Chaldean governor, dispatched his 17-year-old cousin, Mohammed ibn Kasim, to carve out a Muslim foothold in the vast subcontinent. With youthful resolve, Mohammed ibn Kasim led his forces into Sind, the ancient province cradled at the mouth of the mighty Indus River. After a series of masterful campaigns, the young commander subdued Sind, only to find it barren of wealth and fraught with bleak prospects. Lacking the lifeblood of support from his homeland, the colony quickly faded into obscurity, forgotten by those who had sent it forth. Centuries later, Muslim families still held sway over Sind’s governance, but they had become deeply entwined with the local culture, their influence remaining confined to the periphery, neither spreading their faith nor extending their power into the heart of India. The true conquest of India by Islam would emerge not from the Arabs but from another people altogether. It was the steppe Turks, relentless warriors who had entrenched themselves in Persia and Afghanistan, who cast their gaze southeastward, lured by the storied treasures of the Indian subcontinent. At the forefront of this formidable wave of invaders was Mahmud of Ghazni. His father, Sabutagin, had ventured into northern India with dreams of conquest, but his death in 997 snuffed out those ambitions—at least for a time. Mahmud, inheriting his father’s unfinished quest, reignited the fires of ambition and in the year 1000 launched the first of sixteen relentless invasions into the northern reaches of Hindustan. His aims were as much spiritual as they were material; as recent converts to Islam, the Turks were fervent in their faith, and Mahmud was driven by a dual mission—to spread Islam’s dominion and to obliterate the idols of the Indian religions, which he viewed as an affront to Allah. Over the course of the next 26 years, Mahmud unleashed sixteen unyielding invasions. His fervor knew no bounds as he razed every Hindu temple and shrine in his path, earning him the dreaded title of "Idol Breaker." The treasures he plundered from the shattered temples flowed into his coffers, transforming his capital, Ghazni, into one of the world’s most opulent cities, if only for a time. "A great soldier, a man of infinite courage and indefatigable energy of mind and body, Mahmud was no constructive or far-seeing statesman. We hear of no laws or institutions or methods of government that sprang from his initiative" (Lane-Poole, Medieval India under Mohammedan Rule, p. 23). Thus, Islam’s more ruthless face was unveiled, absent the tempered grace that sometimes accompanied its spread—a grace that would later be embodied by Mohamad of Ghor. The descendants of Mahmud lavished his wealth on the pursuits of knowledge, culture, and comfort, and while their rule bore the marks of benevolence, it was not always guided by wisdom. By the early twelfth century, the dominion of Ghazni faced a mounting threat from the burgeoning power of Ghor, a fortress town nestled in the Afghan mountains. For a time, the two powers exchanged blows in a seesaw of victories and defeats until two brothers from Ghor finally asserted their dominance. Ghiyas-ad-Din seized Ghazni and in 1174 placed his brother, Mu'izz-ad-Din, upon its throne, ushering in a new era. Ghiyas returned to rule in Ghor, while his brother, who would come to be known as Mohamad of Ghor, cast his gaze towards India, intent on forging his own legacy. Mohamad's initial challenge was to subjugate the ancient Arab-held region of Sind, a task he swiftly accomplished by 1182. Three years later, he captured the last scion of Mahmud’s line, securing his grip over the Punjab, the vital northwestern corridor of India that borders Afghanistan through the fabled Khyber Pass. While Mahmud’s heirs had grown dependent on Hindu soldiers recruited from the local populace, Mohamad, resolute in his mission, chose to rely solely on Turks and Afghans—staunch Muslims who he knew would wage a relentless holy war against the Hindus. The most formidable Hindu warriors of the era hailed from Rajputana, a rugged land lying just south of the Punjab. The Rajputs had forged a feudal system akin to that of medieval Europe, producing loyal and disciplined warriors, bound by honor and with little love for the Muslim invaders. Their sovereign, Prithvaraja, was a skilled and valiant commander who ensured that any territory Mohamad sought to claim in India would come at a steep and bloody cost. In the harsh winter of 1190-1191, Mohamad marched back into India, his ambitions soaring as he sought to seize as much of the northern subcontinent as his armies could overrun. He swiftly overran the fortress town of Bhatinda, planting a garrison of 1,200 cavalry under the trusted command of his esteemed general, Qazi Ziya-ud-din. Situated within Rajputana, Bhatinda's fall did not go unanswered—Prithvaraja’s response was swift and inevitable. The two rivals met in battle near Panipat, a fateful land steeped in the blood of countless wars throughout Indian history. The battlefield where their destinies clashed bore many names—Tarain, Narain, and Taraori—the last of which is most widely recognized, though Tarain seems to hold the most weight in recent chronicles. Never before had Mohamad’s forces encountered such a disciplined adversary, and in 1191—on a date lost to time—the Rajputs seized the upper hand in the struggle. Though the exact numbers remain shrouded in mystery, every account agrees: the Rajputs outnumbered the Muslim army, a formidable force prepared to defend their homeland. Mohamad, employing the time-honored tactics of the steppes, unleashed his cavalry against the enemy's center, harrying them with a relentless barrage of arrows. Yet the Rajputs, unyielding and resolute, countered with swift flanking maneuvers that forced the Muslims to retreat time and again. Sensing that the tide of battle was slipping away, Mohamad knew he had to display personal valor to rally his troops. He led a daring charge, only to be confronted by Govind Rai, Prithvaraja’s brother and the viceroy of Delhi. Mohamad struck fiercely, "shattering [Govind Rai's] teeth with his lance," but in his final moments, Govind Rai delivered a deadly riposte, driving his javelin deep into Mohamad's arm. Gravely wounded and unhorsed, blood pouring from his arm, Mohamad was on the brink of defeat. Yet one of his loyal soldiers, braving the chaos, lifted his commander onto his own steed and whisked him away to safety. Reunited with his retreating forces, Mohamad, now weak and bleeding, was placed upon a litter, and his army withdrew to the stronghold of Ghor. The Rajputs, choosing not to pursue the fleeing invaders, instead laid siege to Bhatinda. For 13 long months, they encircled the town until finally, it fell back into their hands. Back in Ghazni, Mohamad swiftly mended his wounds and began plotting his return, burning with the desire for vengeance. The very next year, Mohamad returned with a vengeance. While one source improbably claims his force numbered just 12,000, others speak of a vast army, 120,000 strong—an alliance of Afghans, Turks, and Persians—likely a more accurate count. The rematch was staged on the same blood-soaked battlefield, though once again, history keeps the exact date shrouded in mystery. This time, Mohamad was more cautious, ensuring his troops maintained their distance from the fierce Rajput warriors. He meticulously divided his army into five divisions, dispatching four of them to assail the Rajput flanks and, if fate allowed, to strike at their vulnerable rear. Whenever the Rajputs pressed their attack, Mohamad’s forces were instructed to feign panic, staging a calculated retreat. After a long and grueling day of battle, with the Rajput ranks unbroken, Mohamad began a deliberate withdrawal of his entire force, feigning panic once more. This time, the Rajputs bit the bait. The fifth division—12,000 fresh cavalrymen held in reserve under Mohamad’s direct command—now unleashed a devastating charge against the fatigued and disorganized Rajputs, who, in their eagerness to crush what they thought was a fleeing enemy, had lowered their guard. The ferocity of the attack shattered the Rajput pursuit, sending them into a desperate flight. The rest of the Muslim forces turned on them, cutting them down as they fled. Watching his army unravel before his eyes, Prithvaraja forsook his royal elephant and mounted a horse in a bid for a swifter escape. But the relentless momentum of the Muslim charge bore down upon him, closing the gap with deadly speed. Captured a few miles from the battlefield, Prithvaraja met a swift and brutal end, executed by his captors, while the majority of his loyal commanders perished in the ferocious melee. "The result of this victory was the annexation of Ajmir, Hansi, and Sirsuti, ruthless slaughter and a general destruction of temples and idols and building of mosques" (-- Lane-Poole). Yet this was merely the immediate aftermath; Mohamad’s thirst for conquest was far from sated. In the years that followed, his armies surged eastward, led primarily by Kutab-ad-din, a former slave whom Mohamad elevated to the throne as Sultan of Delhi. Though Mohamad occasionally returned from Afghanistan to personally lead his forces, it was Kutab-ad-din who bore the brunt of expanding Muslim dominion across northern India. Kutab-ad-din focused on subduing the western and southwestern territories of Delhi, while another general, Mohammad Bakhtiyar, drove the Muslim forces to the far reaches of Bengal in 1202, culminating in the conquest of Hindustan.

Bakhtiyar’s forces seized the province of Bihar in 1193, the heartland of Buddhism in India. The Muslim invaders swiftly decimated or dispersed the Buddhists, with the survivors fleeing to the distant sanctuaries of Nepal and Tibet. Thus, Buddhism's era as a widely practiced faith in India came to a grim end, its legacy carried on instead in the lands of Central Asia and China. Mahmud of Ghazni is the more renowned of the two conquerors of India, having used his plunder to create a splendid capital, and along with his heirs, became a patron of the arts. Yet it was Mohamad of Ghor who truly cemented Islamic rule in India, laying the foundation for centuries of Muslim dominion. Although much blood was still to be shed before that rule was firmly established, Prithvaraja's defeat marked the end of any formidable resistance capable of withstanding the Muslim advance.

The Rajputs, though nominally under Muslim control, never embraced the faith. Clinging fiercely to their martial traditions, they remained a persistent thorn in the side of the Muslim rulers who followed. Mohamad, restless and ambitious, could not be content with his conquests in India alone. As an Afghan Turk, his aspirations stretched far beyond, toward establishing power in Persia and the Middle East. Yet these grand ambitions were crushed when he suffered a devastating defeat in his 1203 invasion of Khwarizm, the region now known as Khiva. This crushing blow shattered the power of his clan in Afghanistan, leaving Kutab-ad-din without a master to serve. In 1206, Kutab-ad-din seized the moment, declaring a new government and founding what history would later name the Slave Dynasty of Delhi.

This dynasty governed northern India under Islamic principles until 1290, when they were swept away by the fierce onslaught of Mongol invaders. The Mongol invasion paved the way for the establishment of the Mughal dynasty, a line that would endure until its final overthrow by the British in 1857. Thus, for eight long centuries, India remained a land divided by religion, governed by Muslim rulers while the bureaucracy and most major landholders—obliged to pay tribute—remained steadfastly Hindu. Under British rule, these religious differences were largely kept in check, yet the deep-seated tensions between the two faiths seldom found peace. Upon India’s independence in 1948, the ancient enmity erupted anew, leading to the birth of Muslim Pakistan, a nation that has remained locked in a fraught and uneasy relationship with predominantly Hindu India ever since.