BEATRIFULSultan, Not Sultana: Sultan, Not Sultana: The Crowd and the Coin · Sultan, Not Sultana: The Forty and the FieldSizzleC
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SULTAN, NOT SULTANA: THE CROWD AND THE COIN

SizzleC · 5 songs · in production

Volume 1 of the Razia Sultan concept album: the daughter Iltutmish named heir over his sons, the brother who spent Delhi from an elephant, the Friday-prayer crowd that stormed the palace for her, the throne she took on 19 November 1236, and the year she put aside the veil and put her own name on the money as al-Sultan. Every song starts in the sound of 13th-century Delhi and drops hard into deep house or tech house at the fifty-second mark.

rubab and sarangi → deep house · dhol and bazaar → heavy tech house · qawwali call → peak-time tech house · naqqara and shehnai → regal deep house · mint hammers → metallic tech house

all takes and alternates →

Count Your Sons (The Decree) cover

[Intro]

My father counted sons. He counted them all.

Then he called the scribe and he wrote down me. Me, of all.

[Verse 1]

Gwalior, twelve thirty-one, he rode out with the drums,

Left the keys of Delhi in his daughter's thumbs.

[Verse 2]

I ran the city while he laid his siege,

Kept the wells, kept the grain, kept the peace.

He came home and he looked at what he'd got,

A girl who could govern and the boys who could not.

[Pre-Chorus]

Taj ul-Mulk, bring the ink. Write it plain.

The maliks said, you have sons. He said, I have a brain.

[Time]

[Drop]

Count your sons! Count them twice!

Pleasure in the palace never governed anything in life!

Iltutmish put my name on the heir's decree,

All his sons at the table and the throne came down to me!

[Verse 3]

They said a woman's hand can't hold a Turkish sword,

He said my sons are drunk and I can't afford

A Delhi run by boys who sleep till noon,

Mark the parchment, Taj, and mark it soon.

Minhaj wrote it down, but he wasn't in the room,

A daughter heard it first in the Delhi afternoon.

The heir is a girl. Say it, don't choke.

Shams ud-Din said it. The Sultan spoke.

[Drop]

Count your sons! Count them twice!

Pleasure in the palace never governed anything in life!

Iltutmish put my name on the heir's decree,

All his sons at the table and the throne came down to me!

[Outro]

Count your sons.

Then count me.

[Fade Out]

[End]

01 · Count Your Sons (The Decree)

Slow Afghan rubab and sarangi over a soft naqqara pulse, a lone female voice in a modal line, building → Deep House. Warm sub bass, rolling groove, dry close female vocal

🎶 The Sizzle: Rubab and sarangi over a slow war drum for the first fifty seconds, then a warm deep house drop. Mood: a father choosing, a daughter already governing.

🎬 The Story: The Decree: Iltutmish leaves Razia in charge of Delhi while he besieges Gwalior in 1231, comes home, and has his scribe Taj ul-Mulk write her name on the succession over his sons. Minhaj, the only source, was in Gwalior and heard it second hand.

Gold in the Gutter (The Brother) cover

[Intro]

April, twelve thirty-six. My father's in the ground.

And my brother's on an elephant throwing gold around.

[Verse 1]

Firuz in the bazaar, drunk before the noon,

Tankas in the gutter, dancers and a tune.

[Verse 2]

His mother runs the palace, Shah Turkan holds the keys,

The harem learns to whisper, the harem learns to freeze.

She blinded little Qutb ud-Din, then she had him killed,

Then she turned her eyes on me. I know what she willed.

[Pre-Chorus]

Multan's gone, Hansi's gone, Lahore won't send a word,

The vizier walked off with the army. Yes, you heard.

[Time]

[Drop]

Gold in the gutter! Boy on the beast!

Six months and twenty-eight days of a drunken feast!

Mother in the palace and the brother's on the town,

Spend the Sultan's silver till the Sultanate falls down!

[Verse 3]

Junaidi left Kilokhri and he never came back,

Awadh is in revolt and the treasury's cracked.

Clowns and musicians eating off the plate,

Eunuchs at the door and the governors won't wait.

Iltutmish built the city stone by stone,

His son is spending Delhi from an elephant throne.

Mother sharpens knives, and the knives have a list.

I'm next on the list. And I have read the list.

[Drop]

Gold in the gutter! Boy on the beast!

Six months and twenty-eight days of a drunken feast!

Mother in the palace and the brother's on the town,

Spend the Sultan's silver till the Sultanate falls down!

[Outro]

Gold in the gutter.

Pick it up, Delhi.

You'll need it.

[Fade Out]

[End]

02 · Gold in the Gutter (The Brother)

Frantic dhol and bazaar crowd noise, drunken shehnai, rubab, building → Heavy Tech House. Pounding kick, distorted analog bass, sardonic female vocal, sound design: coins clattering on stone

🎶 The Sizzle: Dhol frenzy and a drunk shehnai for fifty seconds, then a pounding tech house drop with coins in the percussion. Mood: contempt, counted in days.

🎬 The Story: The Brother: Rukn ud-Din Firuz takes the throne in April 1236 and spends it riding an elephant through the bazaar scattering gold while his mother Shah Turkan runs the palace, blinds and kills the boy Qutb ud-Din, and marks Razia next. The governors rebel, the vizier Junaidi walks off with the army. Six months, twenty-eight days.

Red at Friday Prayer (The Crowd) cover

[Intro]

Friday. The courtyard full. A thousand men in rows.

I wore the colour that the wronged one wears. Everybody knows.

[Verse 1]

I didn't bring an army, I didn't bring a sword,

I brought my father's name and I brought my own word.

[Verse 2]

She killed my little brother, she's coming for me next,

Shah Turkan in the palace writing out the text.

You loved Iltutmish. You ate his bread for years.

His daughter's at the mosque. Lend her your ears.

[Pre-Chorus]

No general. No malik. No Turk with a knife.

Just the people of Delhi, and they chose my life.

[Time]

[Drop]

Delhi, rise! Delhi, roar!

A thousand hands on the palace door!

Pull the queen mother out of the dark,

The city picks a Sultan and the city leaves its mark!

[Verse 3]

Firuz rode back and he found his mother chained,

Found the gates were shut and his gold had drained.

Seven months of singing, now the song is through,

The maliks bend the knee like they always knew.

No blood on my hands, I didn't lift the latch,

I lit a little fire and the city was the match.

Sultan by the crowd, not a malik, not a lord,

The daughter takes the throne and the brother takes the sword.

[Drop]

Delhi, rise! Delhi, roar!

A thousand hands on the palace door!

Pull the queen mother out of the dark,

The city picks a Sultan and the city leaves its mark!

[Outro]

I wore red.

The city wore me.

[Fade Out]

[End]

03 · Red at Friday Prayer (The Crowd)

Qawwali-style call and response with handclaps and a held sarangi drone, a modal female call rising over a courtyard crowd, building → peak-time Tech House. Driving kick, big crowd-chant hook, commanding female vocal

🎶 The Sizzle: A qawwali call and handclaps for fifty seconds, then a peak-time tech house drop with the crowd on the hook. Mood: one woman, one courtyard, a city that turns.

🎬 The Story: The Crowd: Razia walks into the Friday prayer at the congregational mosque, accuses Shah Turkan of murdering her brother and plotting her death, and asks the people of Delhi for help in her father's name. The crowd storms the palace and seizes the queen mother; Firuz rides back from Kilokhri to a locked city. The red garment of the aggrieved is Isami's detail a century later; the appeal and the crowd are Minhaj.

Nineteen November (The Throne) cover

[Intro]

Nineteen November. The year, twelve thirty-six.

I sat on my father's seat. The maliks swallowed their tricks.

[Verse 1]

They thought they'd put a daughter up like a flag on a pole,

Something soft to stand behind while the Turks took control.

[Verse 2]

Then Junaidi pitched his tents outside my city wall,

Four governors beside him, waiting for the fall.

I didn't send an army. I sent a quiet word,

Salari and Kabir Khan heard what nobody heard.

[Pre-Chorus]

Two came to my table. The others woke in fear,

Saw the empty tents, and the rebels disappeared.

[Time]

[Drop]

This is my chair! This is my hall!

Nizam ul-Mulk is running for the Sirmur hills, that's all!

I didn't lose a soldier, I didn't lose a day,

I split the camp with whispers and the whispers blew them away!

[Verse 3]

Minhaj will write it later in his careful hand,

Sagacious, just, the patron of the learned, warlike, grand,

Then one more line, the sting of a quill,

Pity she's a woman. Pity, yes. But still.

Ranthambore was starving, I brought the garrison home,

Gwalior lost, but the throne was not on loan.

Expected to be silk. Turned out to be steel.

The daughter on the throne. Delhi, how does it feel?

[Drop]

This is my chair! This is my hall!

Nizam ul-Mulk is running for the Sirmur hills, that's all!

I didn't lose a soldier, I didn't lose a day,

I split the camp with whispers and the whispers blew them away!

[Outro]

Nineteen November.

Write the date.

I did.

[Fade Out]

[End]

04 · Nineteen November (The Throne)

Ceremonial naqqara kettle drums and elephant bells, shehnai fanfare, slow and stately, building → regal Deep House. Deep warm bass, wide pads, poised female vocal with a sly edge

🎶 The Sizzle: Kettle drums, elephant bells and a shehnai fanfare for fifty seconds, then a regal deep house drop. Mood: they wanted a flag; they got a chess player.

🎬 The Story: The Throne: 19 November 1236. The nobles expect a daughter they can stand behind. Instead she breaks the rebel camp outside Delhi without a battle by turning Salari and Kabir Khan with secret talks until the rest flee; the vizier Nizam ul-Mulk Junaidi dies in the Sirmur hills. Minhaj later calls her sagacious, just, warlike, and then regrets her sex.

Sultan, Not Sultana (The Coin) cover

[Intro]

First year, the money said my father's name.

Second year, I took the die and I changed the game.

[Verse 1]

Strike it. Silver. Tanka. Read the line.

Sultan al-Mu'azzam. The Sultan. Mine.

[Verse 2]

Not Sultana, that's a wife, that's a mother, that's a bride,

I'm al-Sultan, write it masculine, write it with pride.

Jalalat ud-Din on the silver, Raziyya on the small change,

Delhi to Lakhnauti, my name on every exchange.

[Pre-Chorus]

Then I took the veil off. Folded it. Put it down.

Put on the qaba and the kulah and I walked into town.

[Time]

[Drop]

Sultan, not Sultana! Strike it in the mint!

Name on the money, every merchant takes the hint!

Veil on the floor, cap on my head,

If you want to see the Sultan she's riding on ahead!

[Verse 3]

Minhaj saw me mount the elephant in the open air,

All the people looking and the Sultan didn't care.

A tunic and a Turkish cap, a man's cut of clothes,

Not a disguise, a decision, and everybody knows.

Billon jital, horseman on the back,

Bint al-Sultan on the face of it. Daughter. That's that.

Money talks. Mine says exactly who I am.

Pay the army in my name and watch them understand.

[Drop]

Sultan, not Sultana! Strike it in the mint!

Name on the money, every merchant takes the hint!

Veil on the floor, cap on my head,

If you want to see the Sultan she's riding on ahead!

[Outro]

Sultan.

Not Sultana.

Check your pocket.

[Fade Out]

[End]

05 · Sultan, Not Sultana (The Coin)

Hammered metallic mint percussion, rubab and sarangi, a low female modal line, building → Tech House with metallic percussion. Tight punchy kick, clanging hi-hats, bold female vocal, sound design: a hammer striking a silver die

🎶 The Sizzle: Mint hammers, rubab and sarangi for fifty seconds, then a tech house drop with metal in every hi-hat. Mood: she renamed herself, then she put the name on the money.

🎬 The Story: The Coin: the first year's coins carry her father's name; from 1237 to 1238 they read al-Sultan al-Mu'azzam Raziyyat al-Din bint al-Sultan and Jalalat al-Dunya wa'l-Din, struck at Delhi and Lakhnauti. She puts aside the veil and female dress, wears the qaba and kulah, and mounts her elephant where all can see. The coins and the unveiling are Minhaj and the coins themselves; the insistence on the word Sultan is lore built on the masculine form.