While the Ottoman Empire is often remembered through the lens of its decline, far less attention is paid to the ideas and aspirations that survived within its ruins. In The Indian Caliphate: Exiled Ottomans and the Billionaire Prince, Imran Mulla offers a deeply human account of this forgotten history. Through the story of Abdulmejid II and his relationship with Mir Osmania Ali Khan, the Nizam of Hyderabad, he reveals an Ottoman world shaped by intellectual exchange, cosmopolitan ideals, and political imagination. By recovering these overlooked connections, Mulla brings to light a history of coexistence that feels especially relevant today.
In the book’s introduction, Imran Mulla reveals that the marriage between Abdulmejid II’s daughter, Durrusehvar Sultan, and the Nizam of Hyderabad’s son, Azam Jah, was envisioned as a final flowering of Indo-Islamic culture. It was also an attempt to project the Ottoman Empire, and by extension, Islam, as progressive, cosmopolitan, and engaged with modernity. As Mulla writes, “I describe the scheme as Indian because it involved Indian Muslims outside of Hyderabad, and the Nizam’s capital was widely recognised as home to the last flowering of Indo-Islamic culture.” The book’s strength lies in its willingness to embrace subjectivity. Mulla often speculates about the intentions of his subjects, offering possibilities.
The relationship between the Ottomans and Nizams was also an attempt to project the Empire, and by extension, Islam, as progressive and cosmopolitan
From the Ottoman exile in India, the narrative gradually widens to encompass the growth of modern art in Istanbul and the political choices whose consequences continue to reverberate across the Middle East even today. More than a century later, the idea of the Caliphate remains contested, seen by some as a symbol of extremism, by others as a reminder of a tradition that sought to reconcile faith with modern thought. Mulla’s book inhabits this tension with nuance. He notes that Indian Muslims’ concern and fascination for the Ottoman Empire “helped encourage the Young Turks to embrace global Islamic politics.” This insight is particularly significant today, when divisions within the Muslim world continue to deepen. The relationship between Ottoman and Indian Muslims was not merely political. Rather, it broadened horizons, shaped ideas, art, and literature that extended beyond national boundaries.
One of the book’s most intriguing insights is its portrayal of Abdulmejid II at a moment of crisis. While many Muslim intellectuals and rulers feared the destruction of the Caliphate, Abdulmejid was more concerned with preserving Turkey itself. For him, the survival of the nation took precedence over the institution of the Caliphate, which held greater symbolic importance for Muslims beyond its borders. Mulla suggests that this tension contributed to the weakening of both the empire and the Caliphate. Against this backdrop emerged Turkish nationalism under Mustafa Kemal and his allies. As Mulla notes, “The victory of Turkish nationalism over the European powers led to widespread and raucous celebrations.” In many ways, the political order of the present modern Middle East continues to rest upon the choices made in that decisive moment.
Sections that revisit Hyderabad under the Nizams challenge many contemporary misconceptions. Mulla notes that “the Nizams didn’t levy the jizya,” signalling a degree of respect for religious difference. He further writes that “the dynasty depended on Hindu landed elites for military, fiscal and symbolic support.” Equally significant is his observation that “while the civil service, military and police were largely staffed with Muslims, Hindu groups had a significant presence in commerce, banking, law and agriculture.”
Yet the book’s greatest strength also points to its limitation. Mulla’s subjective approach brings historical actors and their aspirations into sharper focus, but history cannot rest entirely on interpretation. At times, personal inference risks going beyond the evidence, leaving room for competing readings of the past. In an age when history is frequently mobilised for ideological purposes, such ambiguities can be easily appropriated. Nevertheless, the book remains a valuable reminder that the past is often more complex. The Indian Caliphate is an important read not only for understanding the global dimensions of Islam, but also for reflecting on coexistence in times of turmoil. It offers lessons on preserving secular values, imagining a polity that serves a broader collective good, and recognising how the present is often a continuation of histories we have inherited, forgotten, or chosen to ignore.