Killer Khilats, Part 1: Legends of Poisoned "Robes of Honour" in India

Folklore, April, 2001 by Michelle Maskiell, Adrienne Mayor

By the 16008, when the East India Company began to send representatives to India, British agents had to decide whether to accept costly costumes offered to them. Sir Thomas Roe, James I's ambassador to the Mughal court in 1615, began to grasp the subtle meanings of prestations of fine dress after accepting a robe from Emperor Jahangir. However, Roe "indignantly rejected" a gold-embroidered shawl from the Governor of Surat, because Roe "would receive no obligation" (cited in Irwin 1973, 10, where British textile historian Irwin called it a "bribe"). Yet, other British agents actively sought robes of honour to seal trade agreements. Like the ancient Greeks mystified by Iranian khilat transactions, the British expected equal economic exchange in negotiations and often missed the fine sociopolitical points of khilats (for elaboration of Roe's difficulties "in reading the political and cultural world in terms of his own system of meanings," see Singh 1996, 39, italics in original; Sen 1998, 65). After the Great Revolt of 1857-8 against the Company, the British Crown actually created its own khilat, the Star of India investiture. The blue and white silk and velvet mantle embroidered with gold and diamonds was rejected in turn by many Indian recipients (Cohn 1996, 112-33).

For Indians themselves, the perpetually shifting valences of robes of honour meant that a khilat was open to manipulation. Examples of robes used to dishonour, insult, trick and harm abound in early modern Indian history. A khilat could be a loyalty test or a contest of wills. Myriad ambiguities in the custom could be exploited; one could manoeuvre a rival into accepting a khilat that hid hypocrisy, treachery, even poison. We propose that popular legends about such subterfuges exposed the cracks in the khilat system.

During the Mughal era, when costly khilat exchanges were raised to a sophisticated art with very high stakes, rumours and legends about fatal investitures became especially resonant for Indians and foreigners alike. As a projection of a superior's body and will, a gift of secretly poisoned clothing embodied the hidden malice of the giver and poisoned the system's agreed-upon rules. It is no surprise that in hostile situations the robe of honour became a weapon to destroy enemies. The risk inherent in accepting a robe was compounded by the knowledge that cloth could actually carry contagion. As we shall see, the practice of giving contaminated clothing to outsiders was a traditional folk ritual to cope with the fevers and epidemics that raged in Mughal times.

Types of Poison Dress Lore

In the widespread body of lore about deliberately contaminated clothing in Western traditions, the earliest examples appear in the Old Testament and classical Greek myth; later variants appeared in early modern Europe and nineteenth- and twentieth-century USA (Mayor 1995; 1997). In the basic script of the Poison Dress legend, a victim receives special clothing as a gift from an Other (a stranger or enemy, usually of another race, ethnic group, status or gender). The garment burns up the victim or causes a fatal fever. Heat, water, perspiration and cremation are common motifs, and the place of death is frequently associated with healing hot springs. The tale plays on fears of contamination via an everyday item and the ethical ambiguities of gift-exchange, evoking controversy among the performers and audience, and among believers and doubters.