History · Ch 5 — Through the Eyes of Travellers — Perceptions of Society
An early globe-trotter
An early globe-trotter
Ibn Battuta was not just a traveller — he was a scholar who believed that seeing the world taught you more than reading about it. His book, the Rihla (meaning "journey" in Arabic), is one of the richest sources we have for understanding life in the Indian subcontinent during the fourteenth century. It covers social customs, cultural practices, and the everyday realities of travel in an age when a journey of a few hundred kilometres could take weeks and was fraught with danger.
Who was Ibn Battuta?
Born in Tangier (modern-day Morocco) in 1304, Ibn Battuta came from a family of Islamic legal scholars — experts in the shari‘a (Islamic religious law). He received a thorough education in literature and scholastic subjects from a young age, following his family's tradition. But unlike most scholars of his class, he valued direct experience over book learning. He simply loved to travel, to explore new lands and meet new peoples.
Before he ever set foot in India, he had already made the pilgrimage (hajj) to Mecca and travelled extensively through Syria, Iraq, Persia, Yemen, Oman, and several trading ports along the East African coast. He was twenty-two years old when he left Tangier, alone, with no travelling companion or caravan. He later wrote that he was "swayed by an overmastering impulse within me" — a restless desire to visit the great sanctuaries of the Islamic world.
His journey to and within India
Ibn Battuta reached Sind (in present-day Pakistan) in 1333, travelling overland through Central Asia. He had heard of Muhammad bin Tughlaq, the Sultan of Delhi, who was known as a generous patron of arts and learning. Attracted by this reputation, Ibn Battuta travelled to Delhi via Multan and Uch.
The Sultan was impressed by his scholarship and appointed him qazi (judge) of Delhi. He held this position for several years until he fell out of favour and was imprisoned. Once the misunderstanding was resolved, he was restored to imperial service. In 1342, the Sultan ordered him to proceed to China as his envoy to the Mongol ruler.
On his way to China, Ibn Battuta travelled through central India to the Malabar coast. From there he went to the Maldives, where he stayed for eighteen months, again serving as qazi. He then decided to visit Sri Lanka, returned to the Malabar coast and the Maldives, and before resuming his mission to China, visited Bengal and Assam as well. He took a ship to Sumatra, and from there another ship to the Chinese port of Zaytun (modern-day Quanzhou). He travelled extensively in China, going as far as Beijing, but did not stay long, deciding to return home in 1347. He finally reached Tangier in 1354 — about thirty years after he had set out.
The hazards of travel in the fourteenth century
Ibn Battuta's account makes it clear that travel in the fourteenth century was arduous and dangerous. He meticulously recorded the time it took to cover distances:
| Route | Time taken |
|---|---|
| Multan to Delhi | 40 days |
| Sind to Delhi | about 50 days |
| Daulatabad to Delhi | 40 days |
| Gwalior to Delhi | 10 days |
Robbers were a constant threat. Ibn Battuta preferred to travel in a caravan with companions, but even that did not always deter highway robbers. On one occasion, while travelling from Multan to Delhi, his caravan was attacked. Many of his fellow travellers lost their lives, and those who survived — including Ibn Battuta himself — were severely wounded.
A common mistake is to think that only robbers made travel dangerous. Ibn Battuta's account shows that loneliness and illness were equally serious hazards. He once fell so ill with fever that he had to tie himself to his saddle with a turban-cloth to keep from falling off. When he finally reached Tunis, no one greeted him — he knew no one there — and he wept bitterly from homesickness. …
Source 2 — The bird leaves its nest. From the Rihla, Ibn Battuta on setting out:
My departure from Tangier, my birthplace, took place on Thursday … I set out alone, having neither fellow-traveller … nor caravan whose party I might join, but swayed by an overmastering impulse within me and a desire long-cherished in my bosom to visit these illustrious sanctuaries. So I braced my resolution to quit all my dear ones … and forsook my home as birds forsake their nests … My age at that time was twenty-two years.
(Ibn Battuta returned home in 1354, about 30 years after he had set out.) …
The lonely traveller. Robbers were not the only hazard on long journeys — a traveller could fall ill or feel homesick. In the Rihla, Ibn Battuta recalls tying himself to his saddle with a turban-cloth during a bout of fever, and weeping at his loneliness on reaching Tunis, where no one kn …
The painting shows a chaotic scene on an open road. In the foreground, a group of armed men on horseback — the robbers — have surrounded a small party of travellers. One traveller has already been knocked to the ground, while another tries to shield himself. A pack animal, probably a mule or horse, rears up in panic. The travellers are dressed in the long robes and turbans typical of the period, while the robbers wear simpler, more practical gear and carry swords, bows, and shields. In the background, a walled town or caravanserai is visible, suggesting the attack happened just outside a settlement — a reminder that even near populated areas, travel was dangerous.
The composition makes it easy to distinguish the two groups: the robbers are the aggressors, actively striking and closing in, while the travellers are on the defensive, their hands raised or their bodies turned away. The artist has used strong diagonal lines — the thrust of a sword, the angle of a horse’s neck — to heighten the sense of violence and surprise. A small bird fleeing its nest in the upper corner echoes Ibn Battuta’s own metaphor for leaving home: “I forsook my home as birds forsake their nests.” The painting thus visually reinforces the twin hazards of travel that Ibn Battuta describes — the physical danger of bandits and the emotional loneliness of the journey. …
The terracotta panel from a Bengal temple, dated to the seventeenth or eighteenth centuries, shows a crowded boat moving across water. The vessel is long and curved, typical of river craft used in the Bengal delta. Several passengers are visible on deck, seated or standing in a tight cluster. What stands out is that some of these travellers are carrying arms — swords, spears, or bows. This is not a decorative detail; it directly connects to the dangers Ibn Battuta describes in the Rihla.
The textbook places this image in the section on Ibn Battuta’s travels precisely to make that point. The caption asks: Why do you think some of the passengers are carrying arms? The answer lies in the text. Ibn Battuta’s caravan was attacked by robbers on the road from Multan to Delhi; many travellers were killed, and he himself was wounded. River travel was not safe either — bandits could ambush boats at landing points or along narrow channels. The armed passengers in the panel are not soldiers or guards; they are ordinary travellers who had to protect themselves because the journey itself was hazardous. The sculpture thus visually confirms what the Rihla records: that travel in the fourteenth century (and even later, as the panel is from the seventeenth–eighteenth centuries) required constant vigilance against robbery and violence. …