As the title says, the battle we’re talking about today was the third, and final (so far, at least), major battle fought near the northern Indian city of Panipat, which you can see marked on this handy Google map I just made:
Usually when a place is the site of three major battles, particularly when those battles take place over the (relatively) compressed period of about 250 years, the reason is, as real estate agents say, location, location, location. Panipat, located more or less along the most direct route from the Khyber Pass (historically the best/most popular route through the Hindu Kush mountains) through the Punjab and on to Delhi, is definitely situated in the kind of place where armies might frequently be found on the march.
Apart from the numbering, the Third Battle of Panipat can be distinguished from the previous two because it’s the one that doesn’t involve the Mughal Empire. In case you’re wondering, the First Battle of Panipat (1526), in which Babur’s forces defeated the Lodi dynasty of Delhi, was a crucial event in the formation of the Mughal Empire. The Second Battle of Panipat (1556) was important in the restoration of the Mughal Empire after it briefly lost control of northern India to the Pashtun Suri dynasty. By the third go, the Mughals weren’t important enough to be involved anymore.
The Mughals, it should be noted, were still around in 1761, but they very much weren’t what they used to be. After decisively losing the Mughal-Maratha Wars in the late 17th century and early 18th century, they’d begun ceding vast swaths of their empire to the Hindu Marathas, who were moving north from the Deccan Plateau. After Nader Shah’s Afsharid army sacked Delhi in 1739 and carted off most of the Mughals’ moveable wealth, they were out of both money and (increasingly) territory. By the 1760s, the Mughals controlled Delhi and…well, not very much else, and they really only continued to control that because the Marathas allowed it.
Today’s Battle of Panipat marks what could be considered a high water mark of the Maratha Confederacy (or the Maratha Empire if you prefer), but it also marks something close to the high water mark of the Durrani Empire of Afghanistan. So we should probably say something about both of them.
The Maratha Confederation (it was nominally an empire, but the emperors were almost an afterthought and real power lay with regional governors and military commanders, so many people including me prefer “confederation”) is named for the Maratha caste (either a warrior caste or a laborer caste, depending on who you ask and at what point in history you ask them), which developed among the Marathi people of the western Deccan Plateau. In the mid-17th century, under Shivaji Bhonsle (d. 1680), they won their independence from the Adilshahi dynasty of Bijapur. Shivaji set up a Hindu polity that very quickly came into conflict with the Mughals, who were in the process of expanding south into the Deccan under Emperor Aurangzeb. After some initial success the Marathas were nearly wiped out by the Mughals in 1689, but against some pretty long odds, and despite a few setbacks, they spent the period from 1689 through Aurangzeb’s death in 1707 winning the war. Aurangzeb’s obsession with defeating the Marathas meant that, by the time he died and the Mughals were pretty much in full retreat, the empire was in no shape to prevent the Marathas from continuing to expand northward.
Now on to the other players in today’s game. Ahmad Shah Durrani (d. 1772) is considered the father of Afghanistan, because it was under his reign–and that of the dynasty he founded–that an Afghan political entity emerged that was independent of either the Iranian Safavids or the Indian Mughals. For most of the collective history of those two dynasties, modern Afghanistan was the somewhat malleable frontier between them. Initially this was a peaceful frontier–the Safavids and Mughals often had good relations, and the Safavids had helped Babur form the Mughal Empire and then helped his son Humayun retake it from the Suri dynasty. But gradually it became more confrontational, as the Safavids, by virtue of the aid they’d given past Mughal rulers, felt entitled to absorb cities like Kandahar and Kabul, and the Mughals disagreed.
But by the early 18th century, the Safavids were in a terminal tailspin. The Hotak dynasty emerged from among the Ghilzai branch of the Pashtuns, invaded Iran, toppled the Safavids, and briefly ruled Iran from 1722 to 1738, before being overthrown in turn by the aforementioned Nader Shah. The Hotak opened the door to an independent Afghan kingdom, but they overreached by trying to conquer Iran and, well, there’s only so much you can do when a hall of famer in marauding conquest gets you in his sights. But Nader Shah’s assassination in 1747 reopened that door, and Durrani (who had been one of his generals), was proclaimed ruler of the Afghans at a tribal council (loya jirga) that same year. He quickly amassed an empire that, as you can see above, encompassed all of modern Afghanistan, most of modern Pakistan, and parts of India, Iran, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan. In 1761 he was still conquering, and so we come to the part where these two expanding empires inevitably met up in northern India.
It’s possible that Ahmad Shah believed that he was fighting to restore the Muslim Mughals to their rightful position as rulers of India. You’ll sometimes see this battle framed in terms like that. It’s complicated. On the one hand there’s reason to believe that, at least early in his reign, Ahmad Shah had designs on replacing the Mughals, not restoring them. He invaded the regions of Sindh and Punjab several times starting in 1748 and, while he never directly challenged the Mughals, the threat he posed to Delhi convinced them to let him have the former and at least part of the latter. On the other hand, Ahmad Shah did have fairly close ties to the Mughal Emperor Alamgir II (d. 1759). In 1755, when Alamgir’s governor in Punjab died and the province was threatened by Hindu and Sikh rebellions, Ahmad Shah led an army into the region and stabilized it. Of course he then made his own son, Timur Shah Durrani (d. 1793) the new governor of Lahore, effectively confirming his own control of all of Punjab but maintaining the fiction that he’d done it all for Alamgir. After securing the Punjab, he marched his army toward Delhi, met with Alamgir, and then waged a brief campaign against the Marathas. A short time later, Timur Shah was betrothed to Alamgir’s daughter.
However, in order to accept the notion that restoring the Mughals was Ahmad Shah’s primary motivation (or even a motivation) for invading northern India, you have to reckon with the fact that the Durranis did actually win at Panipat and, uh, they didn’t really bother with the Mughals. As we’ll see, Ahmad Shah nominally reinstated the Mughal Emperor’s status at the top of the Indian political hierarchy, but only nominally, and only as he was leaving India because his position there wasn’t tenable. In reality, it doesn’t seem like Ahmad Shah had much interest in India at all, apart from its wealth, and it seems fairly certain that his decision to invade northern India was actually more defensive than offensive, motivated primarily by a need to protect his territories from Maratha expansion.
The immediate casus belli for the battle was, in fact, said Maratha aggression. In 1758, after Ahmad Shah had left India the first time, a high Mughal court official named Ghazi ud-Din Khan Feroze Jung III, but better known as Imad-ul-Mulk, invited the Marathas to seize Delhi. Imad-ul-Mulk had a mutually beneficial relationship with the Marathas, who empowered him to act as the real authority behind the virtually powerless Mughal throne, and Ahmad Shah’s invasion had upset that temporarily. But now the Marathas resumed their march north. They took Delhi, leaving Alamgir under their “protection,” and then drove Timur Shah out of Lahore. At this point, they were directly threatening the new Durrani Empire, and plus they’d embarrassed Ahmad Shah’s son. So war it was.
The two armies–Durrani’s around 100,000 men, the Marathas’, under their general Sadashivrao Bhau, about 70,000–began skirmishing with one another in the summer of 1760, with both sides giving and getting in turn. But Ahmad Shah gradually began to outmaneuver the Maratha army and eventually was able to cut its supply lines and disrupt its payroll. At that point, the Marathas began to bleed troops, particularly mercenaries who for some reason weren’t interested in starving to death while not getting paid for it. Bhau moved his army toward Panipat but eventually found himself surrounded and unable to resupply–apart from stripping the surrounding area bare, which didn’t make him very popular with the locals. By early January 1761 it seems that Maratha soldiers did indeed begin starving to death. They had no choice but to fight.
This was unfortunate for the Marathas, not just because they were starving to death, but because their desperation forced them to take the offensive. The Marathas were outnumbered and man for man were probably inferior fighters–Afghan warriors of this period, like Swiss warriors in Europe (what, you thought the Pope kept “Swiss Guards” because he’s a fan of rösti?), were considered some of the best fighters in the world–but they had better firearms and static siege guns than the Afghans. If the Afghans had been forced to attack them, those elements might have been decisive. But when the Marathas had to attack the Afghans, the latter army’s better maneuverability was decisive, and its poorer firearms and field artillery (the Afghans used shaturnals, or zamburaks, small cannons mounted on the backs of camels) were good enough.
At some point in the early afternoon, the Afghan army killed Vishwasrao, Bahu’s nephew, one of the commanders in his army and the heir to the office of Peshwa (technically chief minister to the Maratha emperor, but really the de facto ruler of the empire). This was the first big blow to the morale of the Maratha army. Bhau decided to take what little reserve force he had and enter the battle himself, which inspired a number of Afghan prisoners of war/slaves in his camp to spread a rumor throughout the army that he’d been killed. That was the second big blow to Maratha morale. Then Bhau actually was killed, and by that point the Maratha army was already beginning to rout. When the fighting was over somewhere between 20,000 and 40,000 Afghans were dead compared to between 30,000 and 40,000 Maratha soldiers and tens of thousands more noncombatants and camp followers (many pilgrims had accompanied the army hoping to visit traditional Hindu sites in Sindh and Punjab).
Now, as I said above, here’s the part where Ahmad Shah kind of restored Mughal authority, but only if you really overlook a lot of the details. You may have noted that the Afghans suffered pretty heavy casualties in victory, and to make matters worse many of their soldiers began to complain about the Indian climate and lack of pay. Ahmad Shah realized that he could be in serious trouble if the Marathas were to form another army to send north against him, which they actually did. So he sent a letter to the Maratha Peshwa, Balaji Baji Rao (d. 1761), expressing regret for the deaths of the Peshwa’s son and brother but insisting that he had not been the aggressor. That was enough to slow any Maratha counterattack and buy Ahmad Shah time to make his arrangements.
Those arrangements included a decree that Indian nobles should all recognize the Mughal Emperor, who by now was Shah Alam II (d. 1806), as their ruler, but then Ahmad Shah also left his adjutant, a former Mughal commander named Najib ad-Dawlah (d. 1770) who’d gone over to the Afghans years earlier, as regent. He also, and here we get to what I think was Ahmad Shah’s real motivation, secured an annual tribute of four million rupees from Delhi and went home. He never returned to northern India, not even when the Marathas retook Delhi in 1771. If he’d really been interested in restoring the Mughals, you’d think that Maratha reconquest of Delhi would’ve gotten his attention, but as far as I know there’s no evidence that it did–then again, Ahmad Shah did die less than a year after that, so maybe he had other things on his mind.
Panipat was the last time before the mid-20th century when two large, indigenous (more or less) South Asian armies waged war against each other–pretty soon, they’d all be waging wars against the British. Although the Marathas did eventually recover much of the territory they lost to the Durranis, they were unable to expand much beyond that before they were taken apart by Britain over the course of the three Anglo-Maratha Wars in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. The Durrani Empire survived Ahmad Shah’s death on paper, but the accession of Timur Shah sent the empire into a string of civil wars from which it never really recovered, and it was finally put out of its misery by the Barakzai Pashtun ruler Dost Mohammad Khan (d. 1863) in the 1820s.