certainty about where it was before Malwa. Little evidence supports the Indian Sunday Tribune's claims that the Koh-i-Noor was seized by Alexander the Great at the battle of Jhelum in the Punjab in 326 B.C. , and then owned by the great Buddhist ruler Asoka.
Babur gave the diamond to his favorite son, Humayun, who probably carried it into exile in Persia and presented it as a gift to the Shah of Iran, who in turn sent it to his liege-king in the Deccan. On July 8, 1656, the diamond was presented to Babur's great-great-grandson Shah Jahan at Agra, where Babur had first seized it.
In 1739 Nadir Shah, the ruler of Iran, acquired the diamond from Shah Jahan's eventual heir and carried it back to Iran across Afghanistan. He called it "Koh-i-Noor," Mountain of Light. It was then about 186 carats and common belief held that whoever owned it would rule the world, provided it was worn by a woman. Nadir's son subsequently gave it to Ahmed Shah Durrani, his Afghan Chief of Horse and the founder of modern Afghanistan.
Ahmed Shah kept the Koh-i-Noor in his capital at Kandahar as the central symbol of Afghanistan's independence from Persia. His grandson then carried it back across Afghanistan to exile in India, where he was persuaded to give it to Maharajah Ranjit Singh, the Sikh ruler of the Punjab. In 1849 Ranjit's heir gave it to the East India Company in a tin box as indemnity for the Sikh wars. Sir John Lawrence lost the diamond in a garden shed and when he found it, presented it to Queen Victoria.
The Queen put it in the Great Exhibition of 1851. The public were not impressed by its lack of glitter. A distinguished committee decided to cut the stone and a patent steam wheel was imported from Amsterdam. The Duke of Wellington started the engine and Prince Albert laid the diamond to the drill. After a month of work by the Dutch team it was reduced to a "brilliant" shape of 106 carats, its historical shape wrecked.
I was in India during the Queen's visit of 1997 when, on the basis of the Koh-i-Noor's time with Ranjit Singh, Sikhs demonstrated for the return of the diamond to the Punjab. Three years later, twenty-five Indian parliamentarians demanded its return to New Delhi on the basis of Babur's ownership. When I was in Iran, the Taliban demanded its return to Afghanistan on the basis of Ahmed Shah's possession. In April 2002, a Guardian leader—with no reference to the claims from Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran—supported the Indians. I last saw it lying on top of the Queen Mother's coffin in Westminster Hall.
By midnight I was determined to sleep, so I lay down in the corner while the men continued smoking and playing cards. The oil lamps were extinguished an hour later. It was a difficult night. Abdul Haq had poisoned himself with the ditch water and had stomach cramps; Aziz's painful cough now sounded tubercular. I woke at dawn and went out to the vineyards to relieve myself. Walking around a corner, I found Moalem Jalil squatting on the ground and wiping his bare bottom with gravel. I had been surprised that when I was shown to the fields in Afghanistan I was never given a pitcher of water with which to clean myself. The Afghan technique was now clear and I could see why Qasim and Abdul Haq so proudly displayed their toilet paper.
At breakfast, which was very sweet black tea and dry bread, the old fat man who had dominated proceedings the night before behaved as though he were drunk, probably because of what was in his water pipe. Usually Afghans sit still, revealing little with their faces or bodies. But this man, who was the headman of a neighboring village, engaged in long heroic perorations, with melodramatic whispers, crescendos, and histrionic gestures, which I found difficult to follow. His large body rocked back and forth, his hands waved through the air, and he kept thrusting his turban back at a steep angle on his head. Every few minutes, he would twist his head to one side like a cockatoo and stare
Babur gave the diamond to his favorite son, Humayun, who probably carried it into exile in Persia and presented it as a gift to the Shah of Iran, who in turn sent it to his liege-king in the Deccan. On July 8, 1656, the diamond was presented to Babur's great-great-grandson Shah Jahan at Agra, where Babur had first seized it.
In 1739 Nadir Shah, the ruler of Iran, acquired the diamond from Shah Jahan's eventual heir and carried it back to Iran across Afghanistan. He called it "Koh-i-Noor," Mountain of Light. It was then about 186 carats and common belief held that whoever owned it would rule the world, provided it was worn by a woman. Nadir's son subsequently gave it to Ahmed Shah Durrani, his Afghan Chief of Horse and the founder of modern Afghanistan.
Ahmed Shah kept the Koh-i-Noor in his capital at Kandahar as the central symbol of Afghanistan's independence from Persia. His grandson then carried it back across Afghanistan to exile in India, where he was persuaded to give it to Maharajah Ranjit Singh, the Sikh ruler of the Punjab. In 1849 Ranjit's heir gave it to the East India Company in a tin box as indemnity for the Sikh wars. Sir John Lawrence lost the diamond in a garden shed and when he found it, presented it to Queen Victoria.
The Queen put it in the Great Exhibition of 1851. The public were not impressed by its lack of glitter. A distinguished committee decided to cut the stone and a patent steam wheel was imported from Amsterdam. The Duke of Wellington started the engine and Prince Albert laid the diamond to the drill. After a month of work by the Dutch team it was reduced to a "brilliant" shape of 106 carats, its historical shape wrecked.
I was in India during the Queen's visit of 1997 when, on the basis of the Koh-i-Noor's time with Ranjit Singh, Sikhs demonstrated for the return of the diamond to the Punjab. Three years later, twenty-five Indian parliamentarians demanded its return to New Delhi on the basis of Babur's ownership. When I was in Iran, the Taliban demanded its return to Afghanistan on the basis of Ahmed Shah's possession. In April 2002, a Guardian leader—with no reference to the claims from Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iran—supported the Indians. I last saw it lying on top of the Queen Mother's coffin in Westminster Hall.
By midnight I was determined to sleep, so I lay down in the corner while the men continued smoking and playing cards. The oil lamps were extinguished an hour later. It was a difficult night. Abdul Haq had poisoned himself with the ditch water and had stomach cramps; Aziz's painful cough now sounded tubercular. I woke at dawn and went out to the vineyards to relieve myself. Walking around a corner, I found Moalem Jalil squatting on the ground and wiping his bare bottom with gravel. I had been surprised that when I was shown to the fields in Afghanistan I was never given a pitcher of water with which to clean myself. The Afghan technique was now clear and I could see why Qasim and Abdul Haq so proudly displayed their toilet paper.
At breakfast, which was very sweet black tea and dry bread, the old fat man who had dominated proceedings the night before behaved as though he were drunk, probably because of what was in his water pipe. Usually Afghans sit still, revealing little with their faces or bodies. But this man, who was the headman of a neighboring village, engaged in long heroic perorations, with melodramatic whispers, crescendos, and histrionic gestures, which I found difficult to follow. His large body rocked back and forth, his hands waved through the air, and he kept thrusting his turban back at a steep angle on his head. Every few minutes, he would twist his head to one side like a cockatoo and stare
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