How Bengali Literature Perceives Maratha Heroism

In a nearly-empty Kolkata theatre, watching a mortal man performing all sorts of miracles on the big screen—from flying over enemy defence lines while riding on his horse and breaking a lion’s jaws with bare hands to singlehandedly defeating hundreds of warriors at once—comes as a shock. Equally horrible is to see his handful of army men wiping out an entire cavalry of a fierce army while hanging from trees, and upon emerging from beneath the ground and water, taking their enemies by surprise.

A much bigger concern, however, lies in the manipulation of history aimed to serve a majoritarian propaganda. Based on a novel of the same name by Marathi author Shivaji Sawant and directed by Laxman Utekar, ‘Chhaava’, released on February 14, 2025, which portrays Chhatrapati Sambhaji Bhonsle (played by Vicky Kaushal), the eldest son of Maratha legend Chhatrapati Shivaji Bhonsle, as a revolutionary superhero against Aurangzeb (played by Akshaye Khanna), is just another addition to the growing list of propaganda-servers.

Actress Swara Bhasker faced online trolling for pointing her finger at the manipulation, which includes a meticulous demonisation of Aurangzeb. The Cyber Cell of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)-led Maharashtra Government registered charges against four editors of Wikipedia for not taking necessary action even after being repeatedly informed about the ‘objectionable content’ on Sambhaji. Other controversies include objections from state ministers over a dance scene and a Rs. 100 crore defamation lawsuit by the descendants of Ganoji and Kanhoji Shirke—shown as Mughal collaborators in the film—for ‘tarnishing’ their ancestors’ image.

Among various issues raised in the protests, some spoke about the horrors of the 18th century Bargi invasions, while others, while tracing the roots of today’s neo-Islamophobia, pointed out the 19th century Hindu nationalism of colonial Bengal. Several professors restated what historians such as Sir Jadunath Sarkar and Ramesh Chandra Majumdar had said about Sambhaji. Some even sarcastically shared the denouncing comments V. D. Savarkar and M. S. Golwalkar—godfathers of modern Hindutva politics—made about Sambhaji.

Sarkar, a pre-eminent historiographer and Mughal-era expert, in his ‘Shivaji and His Times’ and ‘House of Shivaji’, repeatedly condemned Sambhaji’s (‘Shambhuji’ for Sarkar) desertion of Mughal commander Dilir Khan, acts of cruelty to his Brahmin subjects and debauchery, and even called him ‘the curse of his (Shivaji’s) old age’. For references, he mostly depended on accounts by European merchants.

Similarly, Majumdar, 19 years junior to Sarkar, in ‘The Mughal Empire’ (Vol. 7), highlighted Sambhaji’s ‘rudeness, caprice and violence of spirit’. The severity of the raids by Sambhaji’s armies in captured cities, according to Majumdar, “serves as a typical example of the Maratha raid in future extending as far as Bengal, more than seventy years later”.

Amazingly, to counter the theories of Marxist historians like Romila Thapar and Irfan Habib, Hindutva supporters have frequently resorted to Sarkar and Majumdar for their pro-Hindu nationalist views. But, irrespective of their personal beliefs, Sarkar and Majumdar never conformed to any form of historical negativism.

Anti-Right author Upal Mukhopadhyay argued that while ‘Chhaava’ largely deviates from true history, Sambhaji was never the ‘bad boy’ either. According to his research, Sambhaji was a great Sanskrit scholar, reported to have composed ‘The Budhabhusana’ and a competent ruler who carried his father’s legacy of equity in the court.

How were the Marathas placed in Bengal’s socio-cultural spectrum during the 18th and 19th centuries?

Repeated invasions by the Bargi troops of Nagpur King Raghuji Bhonsle, under commander Bhaskar Ram Kolhatkar, aka Bhaskar Pandit—who received horses and equipment from the government—to collect ‘chauth’ (one-fourth of the total revenue of a state) as part of their expansion policy in the mid-18th century, made the way for Maratha imperialism to get its place in the transitioning Bengali literature. The fear the troops evoked through looting millions and killing people—around 4 lakh, as per Dutch sources—over nine years (1742-1751) is manifested in a popular lullaby, a translation of which reads:

Baneshwar Vidyalankar, a courtesan of Raja Krishnachandra Roy of Nadia and later Raja Chitra Sen Rai of Bardhaman, in 1744, penned down a Sanskrit narrative poem, ‘Chitrachompu’—considered the first-ever text to document the invasions.

Ray Gunakor Bharatchandra’s ‘Annadamangal’, a three-part narrative poem eulogising goddess Annada, written around 1752-53, has a small mention of the menace in the chapter, ‘Granthasuchana’ (The Beginning). One memorable line that epitomises the looting, reads: “Nogor purile ki debaloy eray” (If the city burns, can temples be left behind?) Both poets, despite recognising Bargi atrocities, cited Nawab Alivardi Khan’s refusal to pay chauth and vandalise Odisha temples as reasons behind the invasions.

After ‘Annadamangal’, for a large part, the Marathas hardly found significance in Bengali literature. This may be largely attributed to the horrors they brought to the public psyche. James Todd’s ‘Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan’ (1829)—an early manifesto of the British rulers’ Hindu-Muslim antagonism—glorified the Rajput warriors, undermined the Marathas, falsely depicted the Rajput-Mughal conflicts as Hindu-Muslim wars (which were actually wars between a dominant power and a regional power, with both religious communities having taken part in either side), and paved the way for more Rajput-glorifying Bengali works.

Bhudeb Mukhopadhyay’s 1857 historical novella ‘Anguriya Binimoy’ (Exchange of Rings) is worth mentioning from this period that brings out an imaginary romantic tale between Shivaji and Roshinara, a daughter of Aurangzeb, and their tragic parting in the end. Kali Krishna Lahiri’s 1869 novel, ‘Roshinara’, follows a similar plot. Both authors drew influence from ‘The Mahratta Chief’, a short story by Reverend John Hobart Caunter.

In reality, Aurangzeb had no daughter named Roshinara (in fact, Roshanara was Shah Jahan’s third daughter), and the one rumoured to be in love with Shivaji was his eldest child, Zeb-un-Nissa, with no proper evidence to support this claim. Caunter’s story even portrays Sambajee (Sambhaji) as the biological issue of Sevajee (Shivaji) and Rochinara (Roshinara)—something which the Bengali authors consciously ignored.

‘Maharashtra Jiban-Prabhat’ (1878), on the other hand, maintains the historical integrity, courtesy its author Romesh Chunder Dutt being a professional historian. Life experiences of a fictional loyalist character, Raghunathji Havildar, constitute the core theme. Strikingly, long before Sarkar and Majumdar, Dutt first marked Sambhaji as “hot-tempered” and “incompetent”.

The aforementioned three novels—all of which mentioned Shivaji as ‘Shibji’ or ‘Shivji’, a practice common in the 19th century’s Sanskrit-influenced Bengali—follow the same theme of the Hindu-Muslim binary, labelling the Mughals as foreign invaders, dehumanising Aurangzeb and portraying Akbar as a ‘good and tolerant Muslim’ in the process.

Rise of Hindu Nationalism: 20th Century to Present

Dutt’s novel laid the foundation for the Maratha cult to enter Bengal’s socio-cultural spectrum, largely shaped by Hindu nationalist ideals. In 1895, Satya Churan Chatterji Shastri wrote the first Bengali biography of Shivaji, ‘Chhatrapati Maharaj Shibaji R Jibanchorit’, which received widespread acclaim. To Shastri, Shivaji was the saviour of the Hindus and his greatness could be compared with that of Napoleon Bonaparte. Manomohan Basu’s play ‘Shahzadi Roshinara’ (1901), another Bengali work centred on that imaginary love story, clearly declared that it would highlight Muslim tyranny during the era of ‘justice-serving and secular’ British rule.

Even Rabindranath Tagore followed the trend. His 1897 poem ‘Pratinidhi’ (The Representative) deals with the relationship between Shivaji and his spiritual teacher, Ramdas, while ‘Ponrokkha’ (Keeping the Vow), written in 1899, documents the resilience of a Rajput leader against Maratha invaders. For Maratha-based works, including ‘Sati’, a verse drama featuring Maratha warrior Binayak Rao, his wife Ramabai and daughter Amabai, written around the same period, he depended on the translations by author Harry Arbuthnot Acworth.

The emergence of an orthodox Maratha Hindu like Bal Gangadhar Tilak as a national leader also contributed to this development. Following the Maharashtra model, Sakharam Ganesh Deuskar, an ardent Tilak-follower, organised the first ‘Shivaji Utsav’ in Calcutta in 1902. Deuskar persuaded Tagore to write one of his controversial poems, ‘Shibaji Utsab’. He also wrote two essays, ‘Shibaji o Maratha Jati’ (Shivaji and the Marathas) and ‘Shibaji o Guru Gobinda Singh’ (Shivaji and Guru Govind Singh) simultaneously.

An innate humanist, Tagore, however, viewed Shivaji as a royal sage who could unite all castes and creeds. His deep curiosity and reading of bakhar literature led him to analyse the successes and failures of the Marathas from a historical perspective. Unhesitatingly, he could admit that it was not Shivaji who made Maratha great, but it was the Marathas as a nation that made him become a cult.

Later, sensing the evils of religious polarisation, Tagore would reject all forms of nationalism.

In the setting of a growing anti-colonial armed guerilla movement, Maratha heroics continued being the symbol of resistance. Playwright Girish Chandra Ghosh wrote ‘Chhatrapati’ in 1907, where one scene features Shivaji scolding Firangoji Narsala for not killing the betrayer Sambha, when the latter captured the Bhupalgarh Fort. A long form ballad by Jatindramohan Bagchi, ‘Pashar Baji’ (The Gamble), written in the 1920s, highlights the valour and sacrifice of Tanaji Malusare in the Battle of Sinhagad. Another play, Sachindranath Sengupta’s ‘Goirik Pataka’ (The Saffron Flag), written during the fiery phase of armed revolution (1930), was dedicated to Subhas Chandra Bose.

The Bargi invasions sparked fresh interests, too. Taking references from ‘Siyar-Ul-Mutakherin: History of the Mahomedan Power in India during the Last Century’ by Mir Ghulam Hussein Khan, author Biharilal Sarkar wrote a comprehensive history, ‘Bange Bargi’ (Bargi in Bengal), in 1907. Sixteen years later, Nishikanta Basu Ray published an eponymous play that breaks the hero-villain binary, following a psychological line of interpretation. Brajendra Kumar De’s 1951 opera, ‘Bargi Elo Deshe’, on the other hand, glorifies Alivardi and villainises Pandit.

Nevertheless, the 19th century perspective did not wane. Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay, a Pune-resident known for creating the fictional detective Byomkesh Bakshi, wrote six short stories featuring Shivaji. While the first one, ‘Bagher Bachcha’ (The Tiger Cub), focuses on an adolescent Shivaji, his relationship with Dadoji Khondadeo, and the Rajput-Maratha ideological conflict, the other five—written at the request of fellow author Rajshekhar Basu—are about the rise of poor Sadashiv to a ‘Bargir’ in Shivaji’s troops. Shivaji’s depiction is more of a loving family-man, chasing the dream of establishing ‘Hindu Rajya’.

Four more Sadashiv stories were in his thoughts, but his death in 1970 not only stopped them from getting materialised but also marked a hiatus in Maratha-based Bengali literature.

Three books recently published on the Bargi raids, including ‘Bange Bargihangama: Itihas o Kingbadanti’ (Bargi Menace in Bengal: Facts and Legends, 2019) and ‘Bargi Bidrohi’ (The Bargi Rebel, 2024) by Swapan Kumar Thakur, and ‘Banglay Bargi’ (Bargi in Bengal, 2024), edited by Manab Mondal, indicate a growing interest among researchers.

Sambhaji himself has appeared in Prativa Sarker’s latest novel, ‘Khanchar Bhitor Achin Pakhi’ (Caging the Free Voice). “Sambhaji is not the protagonist,” as Sarker explained, “The peculiar blend of his cruelty towards conspirators and love towards Dalits sparked my interest. Upon consulting a range of books, I tried to make an objective analysis of his character.”