The Sword of Mewar, Courage, and Military Triumphs

The Sword of Mewar, Courage, and Military Triumphs

In the year 1509, the coronation of Rana Sanga was not merely the crowning of a king. It was the unsheathing of a sword from the scabbard of Mewari pride, a blade forged in the fire of Mewar’s unyielding spirit. Kumar Sangram Singh, who would come to be known as Maharana Sanga with the passage of time, stood at the helm of a kingdom surrounded by enemies the moment he became king. At that time, Mewar’s borders stood at a crucible where every day was a test of honor and survival. To the north loomed the shadow of the Delhi Sultanate, its Afghan rulers seated upon it, ravenous with the hunger for dominance. To the west, the Gujarat Sultanate, and to the south, the Malwa Sultanate sharpened their teeth against Mewar, while from all directions, the Mughal power stood eager to swallow Rajput land. Yet, Maharana Sanga was no ordinary prey to be easily subdued. He was a trained and capable, fearless hunter – a lion whose roar alone shook the foundations of empires in that era. Ascending the throne, over the next two decades, he elevated Mewar to the pinnacle of its power. His military campaigns were a symphony of valor, strategy, and sacrifice. This is the saga of those battles that defined his reign, those victories that etched his name onto the stones of Indian history, and those wounds that made him the unconquerable sword of Mewar.

The Battle of Khatoli: A Roaring Challenge (1517)

Sanga’s first great trial by fire came in 1517, when only eight years of his reign had passed. Winds of war were blowing fiercely from the north. The Sultan of Delhi, Ibrahim Lodi, had inherited an unstable empire from his father Sikandar Lodi in 1517. Arrogant and ambitious, Ibrahim resolved to impose his authority over the Rajput states, but for that, he had to cross swords with Mewar, where Sanga stood at the forefront of the Rajput kings. Thus, seeing his dream, Ibrahim considered Mewar a thorn in his side. On the other hand, Maharana Sanga viewed the Delhi Sultan as a challenge. He had always dreamed of a united India and a consolidated Rajputana, a vision that seemed achievable through this war – a unified Rajputana free from foreign rule. The spark of conflict flared in the border region of Haravati (near present-day Kota) over a minor dispute. But this spark soon turned into a blaze that tested and measured the courage of both warriors.

The Battle of Khatoli was fought on dusty plains where the foothills of the Aravali met the lush banks of the Chambal River. Sanga assembled an army of Rajput warriors (including Sisodias, Rathores, and Kachwahas), their banners fluttering like the wings of a thousand hawks. Historians differ on the size of his army, but estimates suggest around 20,000 cavalry and infantry, their swords gleaming in the midday sun. Ibrahim Lodi marched south with a vast force of Afghan cavalry and mercenaries, confident that his numbers would crush the Rajput rebellion. But his estimation fell flat on its face. For Maharana Sanga of Mewar was no inexperienced warrior; he had spent his youth training in the battlefields of the desert. His one eye read the battlefield as a poet might read an ancient text.

The clash was fierce and devastating, as if a storm of iron and blood had erupted. In the battle, Rana Sanga rode at the forefront on his warhorse, his voice thundering like lightning, uniting his soldiers and filling them with confidence. The Rajput cavalry charged with the speed of a whirlwind, their spears piercing through Lodi’s ranks. Though the Sultan’s army was larger, it lacked coordination. Relentless assaults broke their lines and their resolve. Amid the battle, Rana Sanga paid a heavy price. An Afghan sword severed his left arm, blood soaking the sand beneath him. Moments later, an arrow struck his leg, leaving him lame for life. Pain burned through his body, but his spirit remained unshaken. Leaning on his saddle, he fought on, wielding his sword with one hand, his cries urging his troops forward.

The assault did not relent, and then came the counterattack. Seeing the wounded Rana fighting like a war god, the Lodi army’s morale shattered. Their ranks disintegrated relentlessly. A prince of the Lodi dynasty (some say Ibrahim’s brother Jalal Khan) was captured, his royal blood becoming the prize of Sanga’s victory. As the Sultan’s army fled, he escaped northward, his dream of subduing the Rajputs shattered in this battle. Khatoli was not just a military victory; it was a proclamation that “Mewar would not bow before Delhi.” With this triumph, though crippled, Rana Sanga emerged as a great warrior for Rajputana. The victory brought the Chambal banks under Mewar’s control, and Ibrahim Lodi’s prestige was reduced to dust. For Sanga, it was a personal cost, as even after the victory, his body bore the marks of rebellion – a testament to Rajput resolve that valor surpasses mere survival.

Dholpur: The Second Strike (1518-19)

Stung by the defeat at Khatoli, Ibrahim Lodi licked his wounds and nursed his pride. He had faced defeat, but the desire for victory festered in his mind as vengeance for the humiliation. He could not tolerate Rana Sanga’s audacity, for Mewar’s growing power threatened his sultanate, already weakened by rebellious nobles. In 1518, or perhaps early 1519, he gathered a new army and marched south again. This time, he targeted Dholpur (a strategic fort near Agra), the gateway to Delhi’s heart. Ever vigilant, Rana Sanga understood Lodi’s attempt to reclaim lost prestige and crush Mewar’s dominance. He did not even wish to wait for the Sultan’s first strike.

Maharana Sanga began assembling his forces with the speed of a desert wind – troops that had tasted victory at Khatoli. This army included Rao Ganga of Marwar, Rawal Uday Singh of Vagad, and smaller chieftains. His force likely swelled to 30,000, bound by the threads of loyalty and pride. Dholpur’s rugged terrain favored the defenders, but Sanga turned it to his advantage. He positioned cavalry in the plains, archers on the hills, and infantry at the fort’s gates. Thus, Sanga wove an iron trap, ready to ensnare the Lodi army. The Sultan arrived with an army twice the size of Sanga’s, his banners roaring to erase the shame of Khatoli. But wars are not won by numbers alone; strategy and courage play a vital role and secure victory.

The battle began at dawn, the air thick with dust, echoing with the cries of warriors. Rana Sanga, now lame in one arm and leg after Khatoli, led his cavalry forward, his presence a clarion call. The Rajputs struck first, their horsemen crashing like a tidal wave onto Lodi’s front lines. The Afghan ranks faltered, then steadied, their spears forming a wall. Sanga adapted his strategy, and his archers unleashed a hail of arrows from the heights, riddling the enemy lines in moments. As they scrambled to evade the arrows, they failed to grasp the tactic where infantry advanced from the south. Ibrahim countered with his cavalry, but it stumbled before the Rajput resolve. For hours, a blood-soaked stalemate raged, the earth drenched in blood, the air heavy with the stench of death.

Then came the decisive moment, perhaps the one Rana awaited. Spotting a crack in Lodi’s formation, Sanga launched a daring assault targeting it. His horse leapt over fallen foes, his sword a haze of retribution. His soldiers raced behind him, a wave of fury shattering the Afghan center. Ibrahim’s army crumbled, their retreat turning into yet another defeat. The Sultan fled again, leaving his pride and a portion of his territory to Mewar. Dholpur now fell into Rana Sanga’s grasp, a prize that brought Mewar’s borders close to Agra. This victory made Sanga a scourge of sultans. It was now said of Sanga: “Sanga – a king who could make even Delhi’s mightiest rulers eat dust.” The wounds of successive defeats dealt by Rana never healed for Ibrahim Lodi. His rule slowly crumbled, his nobles whispered of weakness, his throne hollowed out.

Gagron: Conquest of Malwa (1519)

With Delhi weakened, Sanga turned his gaze south to the Malwa Sultanate. Despite ceaseless wars and grave wounds to his body, Rana refused to sit quietly. He now sought to conquer Malwa, a land rich in trade and rife with turmoil. Its ruler, Mahmud Khilji II, had become a puppet of his Rajput vizier, Medini Rai. This chieftain of Chanderi had wrested control from the Sultan. Medini Rai, a Hindu warrior, sought Rana Sanga’s aid to strengthen his position against Khilji’s loyalists, promising loyalty in return. Sanga saw opportunity – not only to aid an ally but to expand Mewar’s dominance and strike another Muslim sultanate. In 1519, he marched on Malwa with an army of 40,000, bolstered by Rai’s contingents and the promise of plunder.

The Battle of Gagron was fought near the Gagron fort. Perched on a hill where the Kali Sindh and Ahu rivers converge, its walls were impregnable. Desperate to reclaim his throne, Mahmud Khilji assembled an army of Turks, Afghans, and local troops, fortified by cannons – a rare weapon in Rajput warfare. But Rana Sanga advanced cautiously, his mind weaving a plan, his scouts mapping the terrain. The fort’s natural defenses favored the enemy, but Sanga’s genius lay in turning obstacles into opportunities. He divided his army: cavalry in the plains, infantry along the riverbanks, and a reserve force under Rai for a rear assault.

The battle began with the roar of cannons, their thunder shaking the earth. Unfamiliar with these weapons, the Rajputs wavered for a moment, but Rana Sanga’s roar cut through the chaos: “Fear not the rumble of cowards – our swords will silence it!” His troops rallied, their courage rekindled. The cavalry charged, dodging cannon fire, their spears tearing through Khilji’s lines. Infantry crossed the rivers, their shields protecting them from enemy arrows, while Rai’s contingent emerged from the hills – a hammer to Sanga’s anvil. The Sultan’s army buckled under the pressure, resisting fiercely but unable to withstand the onslaught. Mahmud himself was captured, his royal tent razed, his dreams of resurgence shattered.

Rana Sanga’s victory at Gagron stood like a pillar of triumph. He seized most of Malwa with this conquest and appointed Medini Rai as its governor. But his generosity, as renowned as his valor, shone even brighter. Instead of executing Mahmud Khilji, he treated him with honor, releasing him with dignity under the security of hostages and a promise of peace. This was not Sanga’s weakness but a message: Sanga fought not for destruction but for dominance. Malwa’s wealth – grain, trade routes, and commerce – now flowed into Mewar, fueling his growing empire. Poets hailed Gagron as a victory of dharma, for a Hindu king had reclaimed lost land after centuries of defeat.

Idar and Gujarat: The Western Storm (1520)

After Malwa’s conquest, in 1520, Rana Sanga turned westward. His gaze sought something in the rugged hills of Idar and the fertile plains of Gujarat. The Gujarat Sultanate under Muzaffar Shah II rivaled Delhi in power. Much of its wealth came from maritime trade, its army a blend of Muslim nobles and Hindu vassals. Perhaps the spark he sought flared in Idar – a small Rajput state where Gujarat intervened in a succession dispute. The rightful ruler, Rao Raimal, sought refuge with Rana Sanga against Gujarat’s governor Nizam-ul-Mulk, who backed a rival. Sanga, protector of Rajput honor, saw in this plea a chance to humble another sultanate and secure Mewar’s west.

He marched toward Gujarat with a coalition of 40,000 troops. Sisodias, Rathores, and chieftains from Dungarpur and Banswara joined his army, their banners weaving a tapestry of Rajput pride. The campaign began in Idar, where Sanga defeated Nizam’s forces in a sharp, bloody clash and restored Raimal to his throne. But he did not stop there. Emboldened, he entered Gujarat, his army spreading like a tempest. Near Ahmedabad, Muzaffar Shah met him with a massive force – cavalry, infantry, and war elephants, their trumpets challenging Rajput horns. The battle was cataclysmic – dust so thick it veiled the sun, the cries of men and beasts a cacophony.

Sanga’s strategy remained relentless. His cavalry pierced Gujarat’s flanks, archers targeted elephant riders, and infantry held the center like an iron wall. Maddened by arrows, the elephants turned on their own lines, a calamity Gujarat’s army could not endure as battle lust turned to chaos. Muzaffar’s forces fled toward Ahmedabad, but Sanga pursued, halting 20 miles from the city. He looted the royal treasury and rebuilt temples razed by Mughals into mosques. With this victory, all of northern Gujarat fell under his sway, governed by a loyal vassal, its wealth a boon to Mewar’s coffers. Though the Gujarat Sultanate was not wholly destroyed, it was humiliated, its borders and pride bruised.

The Pinnacle of Power

By 1520, Rana Sanga and Mewar stood at the zenith of their military glory through ceaseless victories. Khatoli and Dholpur had crushed Delhi’s spirit, Gagron subdued Malwa, and Idar tamed Gujarat. His empire stretched across modern Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh, Gujarat, and parts of Uttar Pradesh – the largest dominion since the Pratihara kings. He fought over a hundred battles – skirmishes and sieges too numerous to count. Every war he waged adorned and expanded his saga of victories. His body endured much: one eye lost, one arm severed, one leg crippled, and countless scars etched upon him. Yet, he led every battle, his presence a banner of defiance, his single eye an unwavering pledge of victory.

Sanga’s triumphs were not mere victories; they embodied a realized vision. He revived the waning Rajput dominance in Rajputana, united tribes after centuries of division, and reclaimed a Hindustan free from foreign rule. Mughal historian Badayuni called him the bravest among Rajputs, akin to Prithviraj Chauhan in a sense. Maharana Sanga, in one way, proved valor and courage equal to his grandfather Maharana Kumbha. But his saga of bravery continued to be written. Babur, soon to become his greatest foe, also chronicled his greatness in the Baburnama, naming him India’s most powerful ruler. Rana’s army, now swelled with allies and vassals, numbered in the thousands – a force that struck fear into sultans and kings. His generosity – releasing Mahmud Khilji, honoring defeated foes – was part of this too. This magnanimity elevated him above mere chieftains, making him a king of dharma. He was also called Maharana Hindupati in history.

But no day lasts forever, and betrayal does not delay long. Dark clouds loomed on Mewar’s horizon, surrounded by power, might, and pride. In 1526, a new enemy descended from the northwest – his name was Babur. Babur, the ruthless Timurid king, whose ambitions were made more destructive by the advent of cannons. In Babur, Maharana Sanga faced his greatest test. A clash that would pit Rajput valor against Mughal innovation. The victories of Khatoli, Dholpur, Gagron, and Idar had built an empire, but Khanwa was to become the stage that would decide its fate. For now, Rana Sanga reigned supreme – the proud sword of Mewar, a warrior whose triumphs lit Rajputana’s sky like a thousand suns.

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