Dara Shikoh’s spiritual journey was deeply tied to Kashi (Varanasi), where he served as governor and undertook significant religious and cultural endeavors. During his tenure, Dara built temples and mosques, promoting an atmosphere of communal harmony

Swami Oma The Akk

On the evening of April 4, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee, a man with hopeful eyes gazed at the setting sun. Standing on the balcony of a house, he envisioned a morning where the sun’s rays would shine equally on all faces, erasing the distinction between black and white. Centuries earlier, on August 30, 1659, in Delhi, a bloodied man in tattered clothes stared at the horizon. His anguished eyes seemed to question the sun, “When will you rise for justice again?”

Martin Luther King Jr. was born on January 15, 1929, in Atlanta, Georgia, to an upper-middle-class African-American family. His father, Martin Luther King Sr., was a Baptist pastor, while his mother, Alberta, was a schoolteacher. The King household prominently displayed a picture of Abraham Lincoln, the president whose efforts had technically ended slavery in America. Yet, the ground reality painted a different picture.

Centuries earlier, Dara Shikoh, son of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, was born on March 20, 1615, in Ajmer, India. Shah Jahan, whose empire generated an annual income of over 150 million pounds, lavished Dara with every conceivable comfort and opportunity for education. Shah Jahan envisioned Dara as a future emperor, but destiny had other plans.

Martin Luther King Jr. attended a good school, where most of his classmates were white Americans. Despite their camaraderie, there was an unspoken racial divide. King Jr. was barred from attending the grand churches frequented by his white friends and was instead relegated to a dilapidated one for African-Americans. His innocent question to his father about why blacks worshipped the same God in rundown churches was met with silence.

This segregation extended far beyond church walls. Throughout America and Europe, whites regarded blacks as inferior—untouchable and undesirable. As King Jr. grew older, he recognized the hypocrisy of a nation that claimed to be modern and civilized yet perpetuated systemic racism. The U.S. Constitution seemed more an instrument of punishment than a protector of personal rights and freedoms.

In Mughal India, Dara Shikoh was deeply influenced by his great-grandfather Akbar, who had championed communal harmony. Akbar’s court discouraged beef consumption, participated in Hindu festivals, observed fasting on Thursdays, and oversaw translations of Hindu scriptures like the Ramayana and Mahabharata. He even founded a syncretic religious movement, Din-e-Ilahi. However, his successors, including Shah Jahan, leaned toward Islamic orthodoxy. Despite this, Dara inherited Akbar’s spirit of inclusivity. He immersed himself in studying various religious texts, including the Quran. He was captivated by verses emphasizing universal truths and divine creation, leading him to believe that understanding the divine required knowledge from all faiths. While noble, such views were dangerous for a Mughal prince.

Fast forward to the 20th century, a figure from India—Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi—inspired political thought worldwide. Gandhi’s nonviolent resistance deeply resonated with King Jr., shaping his vision to eradicate racial discrimination. In 1955, King Jr., alongside Rosa Parks—whose refusal to vacate her bus seat sparked outrage—initiated a campaign against racial segregation in buses. What began in Alabama and Montgomery soon became a nationwide movement. King Jr.’s eloquence and heartfelt speeches captivated audiences. His words weren’t empty rhetoric; they reflected a lifetime of personal pain and resilience against racial injustice.

For African-Americans, King Jr.’s leadership symbolized a prophet’s arrival. But for white supremacists, his rise was an affront to their deeply ingrained beliefs. Similarly, Dara’s quest for universal truth and his rejection of religious orthodoxy made him a target among conservative factions in his empire.

Both men’s revolutionary ideas culminated in their tragic demise. King Jr. was assassinated on April 4, 1968, cutting short his dream of racial equality. Dara Shikoh, betrayed by his own brother Aurangzeb, was executed on August 30, 1659, marking the end of a vision for a pluralistic India.

The deaths of these visionaries highlight a grim reality: revolutions born out of hope and inclusivity often threaten entrenched powers. The murder of such revolutions doesn’t just silence individuals but dims the collective dream of humanity for justice and equality.

The annals of Indian history often highlight the stark contrast between the Mughal princes Dara Shikoh and his brother Aurangzeb, the former embodying inclusivity and scholarship, the latter remembered for his ruthless pursuit of power and religious orthodoxy. Dara Shikoh, the eldest son of Emperor Shah Jahan, was not only a favored prince but also a beacon of religious harmony and intellectual curiosity during the Mughal era.

In 1633 AD, Shah Jahan appointed Dara as the governor of Gujarat, granting him an annual salary of one crore rupees. Instead of using this wealth to amass power or luxury, Dara devoted it to intellectual pursuits, collecting books and gathering scholars from across the world. Recognizing his son’s passion, Shah Jahan gifted Dara a vast library, which became his sanctuary for exploring diverse philosophies and religions. Dara’s insatiable thirst for truth mirrored the spiritual quest of Siddhartha Gautama, as he sought solace beyond the material splendor of royalty.

Dara’s circle of friends and advisors reflected his eclectic interests. While politics was peripheral to his life, he surrounded himself with theologians, philosophers, scientists, and literary figures. His ability to immerse himself in different religious traditions earned him admiration and criticism alike. When conversing with Jewish priests, Dara appeared as one of them; among Christians, he exhibited an affinity for Christian teachings; and he became a devout Muslim among Islamic scholars. Yet, it was in the Vedantic principles of Hinduism—particularly the idea of Brahma’s omnipresence—that Dara found profound spiritual liberation.

A Spiritual Bond with Kashi

Dara Shikoh’s spiritual journey was deeply tied to Kashi (Varanasi), where he served as governor and undertook significant religious and cultural endeavors. During his tenure, Dara built temples and mosques, promoting an atmosphere of communal harmony. He also patronized local artists and scholars, elevating Kashi’s cultural and intellectual standing. It was in this ancient city that Dara encountered his spiritual guru, an Avdhoot Aghori Shaiv Sadhu, whose teachings profoundly influenced him.

Dara’s admiration for Kashi culminated in his Persian work, Majma-ul-Bahrain (The Confluence of Two Seas), which explored the similarities between Hinduism and Islam. Centuries later, the poet Mirza Ghalib, inspired by Dara, penned Chirag-e-Der, extolling Kashi as a city of unparalleled sanctity, offering answers to life’s deepest questions. For both Hindus and Muslims, Kashi symbolized a sacred confluence of faiths, embodying the ideals of unity that Dara cherished.

The 1640s marked the golden period of Dara Shikoh’s life. Shielded by his father’s affection, he revived the ideological revolution initiated by his great-grandfather Akbar, championing religious tolerance and philosophical inquiry. As governor of provinces like Gujarat, Bihar, Bengal, and Kabul, Dara authored several seminal works that underscored his commitment to interfaith dialogue.

His most notable works include:

• Majma-ul-Bahrain: An exploration of commonalities between Hindu and Muslim beliefs.
• Sirr-e-Akbar (The Great Secret): A commentary on the Upanishads and a tribute to Akbar’s vision of religious unity.
• Diwan-e-Dara Shikoh: A collection of his poetry.
• Hasnat-ul-Arifeen (The Beauty of Sufi Saints): A study of Sufi saints’ lives and teachings.

Dara’s crowning intellectual achievement was the Persian translation of the Upanishads, which he regarded as the pinnacle of spiritual knowledge. His translations bridged cultural and religious divides, offering Persian-speaking Muslims access to Hindu philosophy.

Dara’s vision of unity, however, clashed with his brother Aurangzeb’s rigid orthodoxy. Unlike Dara, who believed in the harmonious coexistence of religions, Aurangzeb sought to impose a singular, intolerant vision of Islam. Aurangzeb’s court was dominated by orthodox clerics, and his ambition led to a bitter fratricidal war. Dara’s progressive ideals and intellectual pursuits made him a target for his power-hungry brother, who ultimately defeated and executed him in 1659.

Dara Shikoh’s tragic end marked the loss of a leader who could have steered the Mughal Empire toward an era of unprecedented cultural and spiritual synthesis. Yet, his legacy endures as a symbol of tolerance and enlightenment, inspiring scholars and thinkers across generations.

In the words of Martin Luther King Jr., “We are all connected and should treat each other with love and compassion.” King’s philosophy, inspired in part by Hinduism, resonates with Dara’s belief in the unity of all beings. Both figures, separated by centuries and continents, shared a commitment to breaking barriers and fostering understanding—a lesson as relevant today as it was in their time.

Martin Luther King Jr. to Dara Shikoh

The narratives of Martin Luther King Jr. and Dara Shikoh resonate with a profound sense of injustice and the struggle for humanity amidst brutal oppression. Both figures, separated by centuries and continents, symbolize the fight against tyranny and discrimination, yet their fates illustrate the tragic consequences of standing against entrenched power.

In the United States, J. Edgar Hoover, the then-director of the FBI, perceived King’s peaceful campaign for the rights of American Dalits as a threat. King’s “Poor People’s Campaign” in 1968 aimed to eradicate poverty and challenge the capitalist structures that perpetuated inequality. Despite its peaceful intentions, the campaign was met with hostility from the upper echelons of society, who branded King as an extremist. His commitment to social justice placed him at odds with powerful figures like George Wallace, the governor of Alabama, whose feudal ideology epitomized the resistance to change.

Simultaneously, in 17th-century India, Dara Shikoh, the Mughal prince, faced a similar fate. Accused of heresy for placing humanity above religious dogma, he was tortured by the soldiers of his brother, Aurangzeb. On August 29, 1658, a crowd of Hindus mourned the sight of their potential emperor, stripped of dignity and subjected to cruelty. Dara’s only crime was his belief in a universal humanity, a stance that made him a target for those who thrived on division and fundamentalism.

Both King and Dara Shikoh embodied the struggle for justice and equality, yet both were met with violence. On April 4, 1968, King was assassinated, his death sending shockwaves through America. The outpouring of grief transformed into riots and unrest, as African Americans, feeling the weight of centuries of oppression, erupted in anger. The echoes of King’s voice for peace still resonate, yet the specter of hatred and discrimination that claimed his life lingers, morphing but never fully dissipating.

Dara Shikoh’s tragic end on August 30, 1659, mirrored King’s fate. As he faced death at the hands of his own kin, he imparted a final message of love and service to his son, Sipahr Shikoh. His severed head, sent as a cruel gift to his father, Shah Jahan, became a symbol of the brutal suppression of dissent. The burial of Dara’s head near the Taj Mahal, a monument to love, starkly contrasted with the violence that extinguished his life. This act of cruelty not only highlighted the depths of betrayal but also underscored the silence of those who once revered him.

In both cases, the voices of the oppressed were silenced, yet their legacies persist. King’s dream of equality has sparked movements that continue to challenge systemic racism, while Dara’s vision of a united humanity remains a poignant reminder of the cost of oppression. The shared bloodshed of these leaders—one in the streets of Memphis, the other under the peepal tree—speaks to the universal struggle against tyranny.

As we reflect on the lives of Martin Luther King Jr. and Dara Shikoh, we are reminded that the fight for justice is ongoing. Their sacrifices implore us to confront the ghosts of hatred and discrimination, urging us to uphold the values of truth, love, and humanity in the face of power.

(Swami Oma,  the Akk, embodies spiritual wisdom, compassion, and transformative teachings for inner peace and awakening.)