The Weight of the Crown: Why I, Prince Mokah of the Lohana clan, Chose a New Dawn for Sindh

Mokah Lohana (Son of Bisayah, grandson of Sarhand Lohana, Greatgrandson of Agham Lohana)

History is written by those who conquer, and often misjudged by those who merely look back from afar. They will call my actions treachery. They will whisper the word betrayal in the corridors of Alor. But they do not carry the blood of King Agham Lohana in their veins, nor have they had to watch their people be treated as chess pieces by an ungrateful, indifferent crown.

To understand why I, Mokah, son of Bisayah, made a pact with the Arab general Muhammad bin Qasim, you must look at the history of my bloodline — not through the lens of Brahmin decrees, but through the lived reality of the Lohana clan.

The Ghost of Brahmanabad and My Stolen Birthright

Generations ago, my great-grandfather, King Agham Lohana, was not a mere subject. He was a free, sovereign monarch. His authority was absolute, and his power was so deeply respected that the rulers of the Lakha, the Samma, and the Sahata clans all willingly bowed to his sway. Brahmanabad was a seat of independent glory.

Then came Chach the Brahmin, an ambitious minister who seized the throne of Alor and marched his armies against my great-grandfather. King Agham fought bravely but fell in battle. Because my grandfather, Sarhand, was only a minor at the time, Chach could not easily erase our lineage without sparking a massive tribal rebellion among the Lohana and our allies. Instead, he stayed in Brahmanabad for a year, took over the direct administration as a regent, and absorbed our dynasty. He married his own niece to my young grandfather to tightly bind our family lines, reducing independent kings into titular governors.

I grew up carrying both bloodlines: the ancient, proud warrior legacy of the Lohana through my father Bisayah, and the Brahmin royal blood through my grandmother. Yet, the memory of our stolen sovereignty never truly faded. We were rulers forced to play the part of servants to the dynasty of Alor.

The Turning Point: Dahir’s Absolute Betrayal

When the heavy dust of the Umayyad army rose on the horizon, led by the young general Muhammad bin Qasim, I acted as a loyal vassal should. I knew the terrifying power of their disciplined forces and their devastating siege engines. My local garrison stood no chance of holding the frontier alone.

I did my duty. I penned an urgent, desperate letter to my relative and sovereign, Raja Dahir. I laid bare the imminent danger, begging for imperial reinforcements, provisions, and defensive strategy to save our lands from destruction.

And what did the King of Sindh do while the fate of my domain hung in the balance?

He ignored my plea and went hunting.

That was the moment the illusion of my allegiance shattered. In a feudal world, loyalty is a reciprocal contract: a vassal offers his sword and taxes, and the king guarantees protection. By casting my urgent warning aside for a casual hunting expedition, Raja Dahir broke his royal vow. He did not just fail me as a king; he abandoned me as a kinsman to be slaughtered. He made it entirely clear that the lives of the Lohana people were completely worthless to the throne of Alor.

Furious, isolated, and left entirely to my own devices, I faced a stark choice: stay blindly loyal to an arrogant, negligent monarch and watch my ancestral lands be reduced to ash, or take control of my own destiny. I chose survival. I chose the Lohana.

The Negotiation: An Alliance, Not a Capitulation

I did not send a white flag of surrender out of helplessness or fear. I initiated contact with Muhammad bin Qasim from a position of immense strategic leverage. I possessed what the Arab army lacked entirely — flawless local intelligence, a deep knowledge of the treacherous Indus River systems, and the logistics to feed an army.

General Qasim recognized my value and halted his advance, immediately writing to his superior in Iraq, Al-Hajjaj ibn Yusuf. The response from Iraq was absolute: Hajjaj recognized me as a true prince of the noble Lohana clan, descending from a legitimate ruling dynasty. He commanded Qasim to grant me whatever terms I required to secure a binding treaty.

When we met, we did not speak as conqueror and captive; we spoke as equal political partners. We drew up a formal, written pact under the authority of the Caliphate:

• The Return of the Kingdom: I was granted the permanent, hereditary governorship over the entire historical territory that Chach had taken from my great-grandfather, King Agham.
• Autonomy: My administrative authority over my people was fully guaranteed, backed by the protection of a rising global empire.
• Imperial Honor: I was invested with magnificent robes of state, a ceremonial seat of honor, and rich rewards.

In return, I unlocked the paths of Sindh for them. I provided the boats to cross the rivers, guided them past Dahir’s hidden ambushes, and ensured their troops were securely provisioned.

My Judgment Before History

Let the court historians of Alor write that Mokah was a traitor. Their words carry no weight because their dynasty is built on the ruins of my ancestors’ freedom.

I did not surrender. I defected from a tyrant who left me to die, and I successfully navigated a geopolitical storm to restore the power of the Lohana crown. When Raja Dahir chose his hunting hounds over the safety of my people, he freed me from his chains. My pact with Muhammad bin Qasim was a masterful diplomatic triumph — one that secured the physical survival of my clan and reclaimed the sovereign legacy of King Agham Lohana.