Who Built the Qutub Minar? The 72.5-Metre UNESCO Monument That Took 3 Rulers, 5 Storeys, 379 Steps and Over 170 Years To Complete

If

Delhi had a memory palace, the Qutub Minar would stand right at its centre — tall, scarred, majestic and quietly argumentative. Rising from the dusty ruins of Mehrauli, this 12th-century tower is not merely a monument you photograph on school trips. It is a political announcement carved in stone, a religious symbol layered with contradictions, and a collaborative project spanning dynasties, disasters and disagreements. Ask who built the Qutub Minar, and the answer is never singular. Like most things in Delhi, it belongs to many rulers, many egos, and many unfinished ambitions.

Was It a Victory Tower, a Minaret or a Medieval Power Statement?

Historians still argue over why the Qutub Minar was built in the first place. Officially, it is described as a minaret, intended to call the faithful to prayer at the adjoining Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque. Unofficially, it was a towering declaration of conquest — a visual reminder that power in Delhi had changed hands.

The tower rose soon after the defeat of Prithviraj Chauhan, marking the start of Turkic rule in North India. Whether it was meant to echo victory towers in Central Asia or simply dominate Delhi’s skyline, the Minar worked. Even today, it commands attention — and authority.

Qutb-ud-din Aibak: The Slave Who Started a Dynasty

The first stone of the Qutub Minar was laid by Qutb-ud-din Aibak around 1199. A former slave who rose to become the founder of the Delhi Sultanate, Aibak only lived long enough to complete the first storey. Trivia that rarely gets mentioned: Aibak never intended to be remembered as a builder. He was a military man, more interested in consolidating territory than carving legacy in sandstone. Ironically, history chose architecture as his loudest signature.

Iltutmish: The Real Architect Behind the Height

It was Aibak’s successor and son-in-law, Shamsuddin Iltutmish, who truly gave the Qutub Minar its soaring ambition. Between 1210 and 1235, Iltutmish added three more storeys, transforming the tower into a fully realised symbol of imperial Delhi. A deeply religious ruler and a devotee of the Sufi saint Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki, Iltutmish may also explain the Minar’s name. Some scholars believe the tower honours the saint, not the sultan — a subtle reminder of how faith and power were entwined in medieval India.

Firoz Shah Tughlaq: When Lightning Changed History

In 1368, lightning struck the Qutub Minar, damaging its upper levels. Enter Firoz Shah Tughlaq, Delhi’s great repairman. He rebuilt the damaged portion and added a fifth storey, introducing white marble into what had been a predominantly red sandstone structure. Fun fact: The visible shift in material and style is not accidental — it is history frozen mid-repair. The Minar literally wears its disasters.

And Sher Shah Suri’s Quiet Intervention

Often forgotten in popular narratives, Sher Shah Suri also left his mark by adding an entrance during his brief but impactful rule. Unlike others, Sher Shah didn’t chase grandeur here. His contribution was practical — a ruler known more for roads and administration than monuments.

Built on Ruins: The Complex That Tells Another Story

The Qutub Minar stands within the Qutb Complex, surrounded by structures that complicate its legacy. The Quwwat-ul-Islam Mosque was constructed using materials from dismantled Hindu and Jain temples. Carved pillars bearing lotus motifs and celestial figures still stand, repurposed into Islamic architecture. Nearby, the Iron Pillar — which has resisted rust for over 1,600 years — predates the Sultanate entirely. Delhi, as ever, builds forward by standing on the past.

Hindu Craftsmen, Islamic Vision and a Rare Architectural Fusion

Though overseen by Muslim rulers, the Qutub Minar was built largely by local Hindu craftsmen, unfamiliar with Arabic script. This explains why some Quranic inscriptions appear disjointed or incorrectly ordered — a detail architectural historians quietly admire. Elizabeth Lambourn, in Islam Beyond Empires, credits the Minar as one of the earliest examples of Indo-Islamic synthesis, where Islamic ambition adapted itself to Indian craftsmanship rather than replacing it entirely.

Earthquakes, British Blunders and ‘Smith’s Folly’

The Minar has survived centuries of earthquakes. In 1803, a major tremor severely damaged it. British officer Major Robert Smith decided to “improve” matters by adding a cupola, creating an awkward sixth storey. Public ridicule followed swiftly, and the structure was removed in 1848. Today, that abandoned dome sits nearby, officially nicknamed Smith’s Folly — perhaps Delhi’s most elegant architectural insult.

Royal Tragedy at the Qutub Minar

In December 1946, tragedy struck when Jagatjit Singh’s sixth wife, Czech actress Tara Devi, fell to her death from the Minar along with her two dogs. The Maharaja himself was famous for building the Kapurthala Palace inspired by Versailles — proof that India’s princely states rivalled European royalty in excess and ambition. This incident added a sombre chapter to the Minar’s history, reinforcing why public access to its upper levels was eventually banned.

When the Tower Became Political Again

From proposed religious rituals to controversial claims that the Minar predates Islamic rule entirely, the monument has repeatedly found itself at the centre of modern political debates. In 2022, the Archaeological Survey of India was asked to conduct fresh excavations following unverified claims about its origins. Yet, most historians agree: the Qutub Minar, as it stands, is a product of the Delhi Sultanate, shaped by multiple rulers rather than one heroic founder.

Why the Qutub Minar Still Matters

At 72.5 metres, the Qutub Minar remains the tallest brick minaret in the world. But its real height lies in symbolism. It tells a story of conquest softened by craftsmanship, of faith shaped by local hands, and of Delhi’s eternal habit of layering history rather than erasing it. It was never built by one man — and that may be precisely why it has endured.

Did You Know?

The Minar has 379 steps, now closed to the public. It tilts slightly — about 65 cm — but remains structurally safe. It has been illuminated in foreign national colours for diplomatic occasions, including Mexico and Turkey. It became a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993. In a city obsessed with who ruled when, the Qutub Minar refuses to pick sides. It stands instead as Delhi’s most eloquent reminder that history is rarely straightforward — and never singular.