Category Archives: Arts, Culture & Entertainment

Death no leveller in Capital cemetery

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Community Involvement / Social Issues, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

NEW DELHI :

Proud to be Punjabi. That’s the well-heeled Punjabi community of the Capital, a community with established business interests, its own way of living, its own burial ground, says  VIVEK SHUKLA….

Book your place to avoid disappointment... but only if you are a Punjabi Muslim as this burial ground near Shiddipura is reserved for Punjabis. Photo: S. Subramanium.
Book your place to avoid disappointment… but only if you are a Punjabi Muslim as this burial ground near Shiddipura is reserved for Punjabis. Photo: S. Subramanium.

A MUSLIM family along with their friends and relatives recently went to a burial ground in Shiddipura near Idgah mosque known as Qabristan Qaum Punjabian for the last rites of a relative. They were, however, told by the guard of the burial ground that this place is only for Delhi’s Punjabi Muslim community.

Principal of Delhi University’s Zakir Hussain College, Prof. Riaz Umer, who is also the president of the Anjuman Vakile Qaum Punjabian of Delhi, the organisation looking after the institutions run by this community, informs that other than their own community members they only allow the burial of somebody who has made a significant contribution for their community.

This is a very unique community as Punjabi Muslims still vigorously preserve their own identity. The elders of Punjabi Muslim community came here for the first time in mid-17th Century from a place called Bhera in West Punjab, now in Pakistan. They were Khatri Hindus with surnames like Khanna, Channa, Sapra, Baluja, Saluja, Sehgal, Mehndiratta, Bahri and Sachdeva, etc., before embracing Islam.

Legend has is that a group of Punjabi Khatris from Bhera was going to Haridwar for a holy dip in Ganga. On the way, they met Sufi Shamsuddin Tabrez who asked where were they going. When he was told by the Khatris about their plan, the saint reportedly asked whether they would become Muslim if he brought the Ganga right there. The Hindu Khatris accepted his offer and the saint literally brought the Ganga there and then the awe-struck Hindus as promised converted to Islam.

S.M. Abdullah, a prominent member of Delhi’s Punjabi Muslim community, says that while it is true that their forefathers embraced Islam, nevertheless they vigorously guard their exclusive heritage. “Come, what may, Punjabi Muslims will not marry outside the community. We ensure that the bride or groom’s family is Punjabi Muslim, that too from Bhera,” says Abdullah, proudly adding that his surname is Mehndiratta.

It is said that 64 Punjabi Muslim families came to Delhi at the outset. They set up their base somewhere around the present-day Shalimar Bagh. The male members started going downtown to find work. “With the passage of time they started doing small jobs here but were rather shabbily treated by the locals as they were not sophisticated enough to communicate with the more refined and cultured Delhiwallahs,” says Nasser, another member of this dwindling community and a leading model.

According to Abdullah, the Punjabi Muslims’ big time came when the Moghul Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar was looking for some rare herb called Bahadra. When only the Punjabi Muslims could provide the herb, the king and his courtiers were really surprised. He called important members of this community and asked them whether they wanted anything from him. The Punjabi Muslims, among other things, sought permission to do business in downtown Delhi and a separate piece of land for their burial ground. The demand for business was granted and land was allotted to them near the present-day Raj Niwas, the official bungalow of Delhi’s Lt. Governor for burials. Once the first ground was full, another burial ground was made near the historic Idgah mosque at Shiddipura. Known as Qabristan Qaum Punjabian, the burial ground can only be used by Punjabi Muslims. There is no place for any non-Punjabi here.

It is said that 75 per cent of the Walled City belongs to this community. Except for a handful of doctors, teachers, engineers and advocates, they are all into business. Once G.B. Road was almost totally owned members of Punjabi Muslims. After Partition, many of them left India and the authorities confiscated their properties.

The famous Marina Hotel is also partially owned by one Haroon Japanwala while the famous Dehalvi family of Shama Publications fame are also Punjabi Muslims.

The historic Hardinge Library is also said to be financed by one Buksh Elahi, a cigarette merchant. He also belonged to this community.

The Punjabi Muslims community also conducts its own census every 10 years. According to the latest census report, the total population of this community in Delhi is 5090. The literacy rate is over 50 per cent. It is more than the literacy rate of Muslims in the Capital.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Metro Plus Delhi – online edition / by Vivek Shukla / March 06th, 2003

The last of eight generations of Rogan art in Kutch

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, , , , ,

Kutch, GUJARAT :

Abdul Gafur Khatri at work at his residence in Nirona village, Kutch | Photo Credit: Vijay Soneji
Abdul Gafur Khatri at work at his residence in Nirona village, Kutch | Photo Credit: Vijay Soneji

The Khatris have practised the art for eight generations now

Sitting on the floor, Abdul Hamid carefully twists a thick spool of yellow paint around a metal pin. Stretched out before him is a piece of red cloth, pinned on either side to the legs of his trousers. He dabs the paint on the heel of his left palm — it’s a gummy mass and has to be worked into something more malleable. Hamid then brings the tip of the pin a few inches above the cloth, and as it hovers, an elastic strand of colour streams on to the surface. And the magic begins: an intricate pattern grows beneath the swirling pin that never touches the cloth. The floral design looks like needlework.

Hamid then folds the cloth and, just like that, a flawless mirror-image of the pattern appears and an exquisite piece of Rogan art is born.

“We have practised Rogan for eight generations now,” says Hamid. “The first six generations did not get their due for preserving the art, but now, finally it is widely recognised and we couldn’t be happier.”

‘Rogan’ in Persian means oil: the paint is made with castor oil. Rogan art is believed to have originated in Persia some 300 years ago and was traditionally used to embellish bridal trousseaus. As it crossed borders, it began fading from the collective memory of its creators. But nine members of the Khatri family in Nirona, a small village in Gujarat’s Kutch district, are the last surviving custodians of the art form.

The Khatri community once did Rogan work on the clothes of local animal herders and farming communities. But as machine-made textiles became a more affordable alternative and Khatri youth lost interest in learning the art, Rogan began to disappear. “But our family revived it in 1985,” says Hamid. In fact it is Hamid’s elder cousin, Abdul Gafur Khatri, a national award winner, who is credited with resurgence of Rogan art.

P.M.’s pick

The ‘Tree of Life’, an intricately patterned tree with hundreds of dots and dashes, is their signature painting and most in demand. A 14×17” painting can take 12 days to complete— Prime Minister Narendra Modi chose one to gift to the then U.S. President Barack Obama during his U.S. visit.

“Rogan art is 100% an artist’s imagination on a piece of cloth,” Gafur bhai, as he is better known, explains. “There is no tracing, no drawings to refer to.”

But preparing the base from castor oil is a laborious process and can take two days. The oil is heated and cooled in a (special) vessel and continuously stirred so it doesn’t burn. After two days, the residue left behind is mixed with cold water and it thickens into a sticky paste called rogan. Natural colour pigments are then added to the oil base. “Yellow, for instance, comes from a particular stone that is ground,” says Hamid. The pigments are added to the castor oil base and stored in earthen pots.

Wall pieces made by Abdul Gafur Khatri in Nirona village, Kutch | Photo Credit: Vijay Soneji
Wall pieces made by Abdul Gafur Khatri in Nirona village, Kutch | Photo Credit: Vijay Soneji

The nine artists have six national awards and six State awards between them. They proudly show me photographs of celebrities — politicians, film stars, sports stars — who have either bought their art work or felicitated them at awards functions.

Men last longer

It strikes me as odd that all nine members of the family working on the art form are men. This could perhaps do with the belief that women, once they get married, would pass on their knowledge to their husband’s families, threatening the art with dilution. But as Rogan faces extinction, Gafur bhai, has taken upon himself the task of teaching the technique to 200 girls from his village. And this has breathed fresh life into the dying art.

“We taught most of these girls for free. They can now create at least the basic designs,” Gafur bhai says, adding that 25 girls also help the family with their work. In another effort to popularise Rogan, the family conducts live demonstrations for every visitor at their doorstep. During the 30-minute demonstration, artists patiently answer questions and explain the techniques they use. On an average, the family gets 150 visitors a day. And between November and February, during the Rann Utsav — the Kutch desert festival — the numbers shoot up to 250 or 300.

No tough competition

Unlike other forms of textile art such as Ajrakh that face are under threat by factory-made products, Rogan faces no such competition, but meeting market demand has been a challenge.

“You will not find Rogan art the way you find other arts in the markets. It’s not because we don’t want it to go out to the people, it’s because we have limited resources,” says Gafur bhai. We go to five or six exhibitions around the country in a year, and rest of the time we are at home, working.”

It has been a long journey for the Khatri family: from reviving the art to creating public interest to recovering from the Bhuj earthquake setback. But today, they are only seeing a huge resurgence of interest.

The writer is an independent journalist based in Gujarat. When not researching her stories, she is busy spinning tales for her toddler.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society / by Azera Parveen Rahman / January 20th, 2018

Being ‘don dapper’

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Business & Economy, , , , , , , ,

Chennai, TAMIL NADU :

It takes at least two trial sessions before a bespoke suit is ready; a client at Syed Bawkher & Co / PHOTO: R. RAGU
It takes at least two trial sessions before a bespoke suit is ready; a client at Syed Bawkher & Co / PHOTO: R. RAGU

Susanna Myrtle Lazarus visits establishments that offer a bespoke experience for men

You absolutely love that one shirt on display at the store; it’s even available in your size. Just to be safe, you try it on, and to your indescribable disappointment, find that it’s either too narrow at the shoulder or the collar is cutting off your airway or it doesn’t fit around your waist because it’s that dreaded slim cut. And that’s the reason why more and more men are opting to get their clothes tailored, and not just at the corner tailor store, but of the bespoke kind.

But what does bespoke mean exactly? While the dictionary definition is ‘made to order’, in the world of bespoke tailoring, it’s not as simple as that. Unaiz Ahmed of Syed Bawkher & Co in Nungambakkam, says, “It stems from the word ‘bespeak’, which means to be spoken for. It is expressly made to fit one particular man, right from the fabric and pattern to the cut. And it’s not to be confused with made-to-measure, which is derived from a standard block pattern and has superficial adjustments made to it. It won’t account for a peculiar drop of the shoulder or waist. It has limitations, while bespoke tailoring takes all this into account.”

This is one of the main reasons why men prefer to have their suits custom-made to their requirements. “Fit has become an important criteria. In the business world, it’s not very important to wear a suit now; those who do wear them want to have a unique one that showcases their personality and individuality. They also do their research and know what they’re looking for,” says Unaiz.

He knows what he’s talking about: his family has been in the bespoke business for four generations now. As he speaks about his education in London, and under the tutelage of his father, Unaiz deftly marks out a pattern on the material of a dark blue suit. “The person who measures and the person who marks and cuts the material should be the same. Two people can have the exact same measurements but completely different body types. That connection is needed to create the perfect garment,” he says.

Generally, the process of creating a bespoke suit, shirt or trousers can take two to three weeks, depending on the time of the year. First, there’s the consultation, where the client decides what he wants. Depending on the budget and occasion for which he will be wearing it, the tailors will recommend fabric, colour, style and cut. Based on this, extensive measurements are taken. About a week later, the client comes in for a trial fitting when adjustments are made as required. In another week’s time, when the garment is almost finished, there’s a second fitting. Once all the final tweaks are made, the finished product is delivered. All the garments are hand-stitched.

If it’s a wedding, a lot of men go in for tuxedos or bandhgalas. Dark, formal prints are best for lounge suits and business meetings, while lighter shades are preferred for luncheons and summer outdoor weddings. Bespoke pieces usually go by classic cuts and not by trends, and tend to focus more on what looks good for a person’s body type. For a slim and tall person, a sleek and athletic cut will work. Shorter men get a more relaxed cut, and if they are stout, pleated trousers are suggested to give a flattering look.

Prices range from Rs. 35,000 for a basic suit and can go up to Rs. 3 lakh, depending on the fabric used, with cashmeres, vicunas, super 200s and fine counts leaving your wallet considerably lighter than the 120 count fabric from Indian mills would. On an average, a suit can cost anywhere between Rs. 55,000 and Rs. 75,000 at this premium store. Behind Unaiz hangs a pale pink linen jacket. “That one is going to New York; our client wants to wear it for the summer,” he says, adding that men are more comfortable with experimenting with their clothing abroad than they are here in Chennai.

However, this is changing, feels Tushar Bansal of Mandira Bansal Studio. The label, which was founded in 2011, has recently launched its design studio in Alwarpet. He shows some examples of how customers are subtly taking their style quotient up a notch: a waistcoat with The Simpsons print lining, a Nehru jacket with a woven design on the collar and another with a translucent houndstooth fabric overlaid on a cream and pink print material. They have also created a monochrome Madras print on request from a client; it features an autorickshaw.

“We also do bespoke kurtas and sherwanis. Not only do clients want a better fit for their wedding wear, they’re not content with off-the-rack pieces. Men have become more conscious about their look; comfort and a personalised touch is what they look for. They pay attention to every minute detail, from the buttons used, to the colour of the thread and the cuffs,” says Tushar, whose clientele is largely from the North Indian community in the city.

Tushar finds that it’s not the younger crowd that does the experimenting. “The more travelled clients who are aware of fashion trends and have met people who push the envelope when it comes to personal style are the ones who are ready to play around with their ensembles,” he says.

Machine-stitched bespoke suits come in the range of Rs. 15,000 to Rs. 18,000, while the same when hand-stitched costs double — it’s labour-intensive and takes 12 days for a single suit to be finished. Sherwanis made of fine fabrics like georgette, net and pure brocade are hand-embroidered at the studio, and can cost upwards of Rs. 35,000.

At Bespoke by Lazaro on Khader Nawaz Khan Road, clients come in asking for very specific detailing on their shirts. “Those who have the confidence to carry off bold colours are the ones who go for it. Otherwise, it’s generally charcoal, greys and blues,” says Tamsil Ahmed, business partner of the firm. Shirts here cost between Rs. 1,500 and Rs. 2,500, while suits go from Rs. 11,500 to Rs. 45,000. Indian brand material on average cost Rs. 1,600 per metre, while Italian and other international brands, retail at Rs. 7,000 to Rs. 10,000 per metre,” explains Tamsil.

“There’s a noticeable difference between a tailored shirt and a bespoke one. Some of our clients are fitness freaks and they don’t get readymade shirts that fit very well. Here, we can give them a garment that shows off their physique,” he says. And when it comes to suits, Tamsil says that accessories like cufflinks, tie pins and pocket squares add an extra dimension to the look. For those particular about their footwear, this store also offers bespoke shoes, ranging from Rs. 7,000 to Rs. 12,000.

It’s not just for occasional wear that men are going in for bespoke clothing. S. Mohamed Sultan Shabeer, a 35-year-old industrialist, is a recent convert to the trend. “I used to get my shirts tailored online, but I wanted better options. A friend recommended I go in for bespoke, so I ordered a couple of shirts and a pair of trousers for trial. I could see and feel the difference immediately and a lot of people commented favourably on my appearance,” he says, adding that he immediately went in for a wardrobe overhaul, ordering 30 shirts at one go.

While Shabeer prefers Egyptian and Italian fabrics, Nawaz, director of a trading company, goes in for linens most of the time. “The fact that I have control over every step of how my clothes are made is what appeals to me. I can get exactly what I want and I don’t have to compromise on anything,” he says. “When I first tried bespoke clothes a few years ago, I did not have the patience. But now, I enjoy the interaction and the process that goes into it,” adds the 43-year-old.

“With more clients going in for bespoke, designers are also working towards giving the same personalised service at a lesser price,” says Tushar.

There’s no doubt about it; men are willing to spend some serious coin when it comes to looking dapper. Unaiz says it’s for the experience of getting something made exclusively for you, a one-of-a-kind piece that no one else in the world has.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Fashion / by Susanna Myrtle Lazarus / Chennai – April 24th, 2015

Remembering what was

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Business & Economy, Karnataka (under research project), , , , ,

Chennai, KARNATAKA / Bengaluru, KARNATAKA :

ShabbeerAhmedMPOs05oct2018

RJ and entrepreneur Shabbeer Ahmed turns back the pages to simpler times in a smaller city

I first moved Bengaluru in the year 1995. Back then, all the roads were lined with trees, which looked wonderful when they bloomed, and the traffic situation was not so bad. My favourite road in fact was Bannerghatta road, which in those days was considered the fringe of the city, where people came for a relaxing drive. I actually used to stay near the Meenakshi temple in Hulimavu, areas which were barren a few years back. There used to be a water theme park near Bannerghatta which is no more, and now the area is just like any other part of the city. We spent many days on motorcycle rides in this area, stopping to buy egg puffs from the lovely bakeries that dotted the route.

There are fewer migratory birds these days as well. Until a while back the areas surrounding Madiwala Lake had a lot of birds come around, which has lessened and now you see birds on terraces instead. We even saw water snakes on the banks of the lake, and we’d give them names, like Ka from Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book.

Personally, since I’m a massive food lover, I like to go to Fanoos to grab a roll and then head to Makkah cafe in Johnson Market, where I can sit with a suleimani tea and chat with people. Being a nature lover, I also enjoy trips to Bannerghatta National Park when I can. And there’s nothing like a trip to South Bengaluru for some authentic idli, vada, and dosa.

It is true that Bengaluru has become very commercial and industrial, but that has also led to it gaining in infrastructure and opportunity. There are so many options for youngsters here.

As told to Sooraj Rajmohan

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Life & Style – Insider / by Sooraj Rajmohan / October 03rd, 2018

Mosques in Dravidian-Islamic style: About the Islamic architecture in Tamil Nadu

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Community Involvement / Social Issues, Travel & Tourism, World Opinion, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

TAMIL NADU :

The 17th Century Kilakarai Jumma Mosque
The 17th Century Kilakarai Jumma Mosque

The kallupallis are reminders of the region’s cultural and architectural traditions

Among the many inscriptions at the Vaishnavite shrine of Adhi Jagannatha Swamy at Thirupullani, about 10 km from Ramanathapuram in southern Tamil Nadu, there is one about a grant for a mosque. This particular inscription of the late 13th Century by the Pandya King Thirubuvana Chakravarthy Koneri Mei Kondan, describes the grant made to the Muslim Sonagar, to build a mosque at Pavithramanikka Pattinam. While no one today has a clue as to the exact location of Pavithramanikka Pattinam, the region has many ancient mosques like the rest of Tamil Nadu. What is unique about these mosques is that they were all built of stone, in the Dravidian architectural style with Islamic sensibilities.

Unlike north India, Islam came to the south through maritime spice trade even as it was spreading across Arabia in the 7th Century. The Muslims who were traders enriched the country with precious foreign exchange, and hence were accorded a special place by the Tamil rulers of the day, and often received grants to build mosques, like the one at the Adhi Jagannatha Swamy temple.

As mosques are called Palli Vaasal in Tamil, and they were built of kal, the Tamil word for stone, they came to be locally known as kallupallis. These kallupalliswere essentially built more like mandapams, better suited to Islamic requirement for the congregation to assemble and stand together in prayer.

Engraving of Tamil calendar for prayer found inside the mosque
Engraving of Tamil calendar for prayer found inside the mosque

With guidelines for the construction of mosques being simple – such as prayer facing Mecca, no idol worship and clean surroundings, the masons who worked on these mosques under the supervision of religious heads restricted themselves to carving floral and geometrical motifs instead of human figures as in a temple. “While the raised ‘Adisthana’ of the Hindu temple was retained, there were no ‘Garbha Grahas’ and no figurines carved on any of the pillars” says Dr.Raja Mohammad, author of Islamic Architecture in Tamil Nadu.

For more than a millennium, hundreds of such mosques built in the Dravidian Islamic architectural style came up across Tamil Nadu, often with the help of grants from the rulers of the day, ranging from the Cheras, the Pandyas, the Venad kings and the Nayaks to the Sethupathis of Ramanathapuram. Across Tamil Nadu, wherever Tamil Muslims lived in large numbers, from Pulicat near Chennai to Kilakarai, Kayalpatnam, Kadayanallur, Kottar, Tiruvithancode, Madurai, etc., one finds these beautiful kallupallis.

Amongst these kallupallis, though not the oldest, the most beautiful mosque is to be found at Kilakarai, near Ramanathapuram. A medieval port town with a predominant Tamil Muslim population, Kilakarai has many mosques built during different eras spanning many centuries. The one built towards the end of 17th Century is the most beautiful of them all. It is believed to have been built by the great merchant and philanthropist Periathambi Marakkayar, also known as Seethakkathi, whom the Dutch records speak of as a great trader having considerable influence with the Sethupathis, the then rulers of Ramanathapuram.

The mosque built in the Dravidian architectural style of the late Vijayanagara period, has elements that are specific to native traditions. Like many other kallupallis, this mosque too has Podhigai, the floral bud detailing on the pillar corbels, which represent positivity and auspiciousness, an essential part of the cultural beliefs of the land. An interesting engraving found in this mosque is the Tamil calendar for prayer.

What is unusual about this calendar is that, timings for prayers in the various Tamil months are marked in Tamil numerals, a rarity, found in just a few other mosques in southern Tamil Nadu.

These mosques, deeply embedded in the Tamil culture, were also places where Tamil flowered. Further down south, at the Kottar mosque in Nagercoil, an early Tamil Islamic literary work, Mikuraasu Malai, was presented to the assembled congregation by Aali Pulavar in the late 16th Century.

Mikuraasu Malai, a palm leaf work
Mikuraasu Malai, a palm leaf work

Mikuraasu is a Tamilised form of Mihraj, and narrates a significant event in the life of Prophet Muhammad (Pbuh), his ascension to the heaven. Even after 400 odd years, the tradition of singing Mikurasu Malai on the eve of Mihraj continues to this day at the Kottar mosque. Other literary works such as Seera Puranam, a Tamil epic on the history of the Prophet, are also recited across mosques in Tamil Nadu.

The Kallupallis in Tamil Nadu stand as proud reminders of not just an architectural tradition but also of cultural traditions, where Islam effortlessly adapted itself to the native customs.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture – Anwar’s Trail / by Kombai S. Anwar / November 23rd, 2017

The walls have years

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Community Involvement / Social Issues, Travel & Tourism, World Opinion, , , , , , ,

Kutch, GUJARAT :

Kalubhai Vaghela in his ancestral house in Mundra. Photo: Vijay Soneji
Kalubhai Vaghela in his ancestral house in Mundra. Photo: Vijay Soneji

In 18th century Kutch, walls were painted with stories. They survive today in only three places

On the fissured walls of the magnificent Tera fort in Gujarat’s Kutch district the story of the Ramayana springs to life in vivid colour: there is Sita on a pyre, Ram raining arrows on Ravana.

Kamangari bhint chitro or wall paintings was once a thriving art form in Kutch, used to embellish the palaces and homes of the affluent. The themes were as diverse as the patron’s tastes, but were predominantly mythological, with scenes from the Ramayana or Krishna Leela. Royal processions was another favourite. The landscape was another rich source of material, and date palms and peacocks and scenes from everyday life were common.

Kamanagiri01MPOs04oct2018

Today, only bits and pieces of this rich art are preserved in a few homes, temples, and on Tera fort. But if you were to string these together chronologically, history would come alive in a lyrical manner.

Back to its origin

Kamangari art originated in the 18th century. “It was a relatively peaceful time; there were no battles, and it was a conducive environment for travel and trade,” says Pradip Zaveri, a Vadodara-based businessman, known for documenting Kamangari. During this time, the Kamangars, a Muslim community from northern Kutch who traditionally made bows and arrows (kaman means bow) and painted shields, travelled to the rest of the region.

Soon the affluent Bhatia and Jain communities commissioned the Kamangars to paint their homes, giving birth to the art form. Such artistic embellishment on walls was traditionally seen as auspicious in Kutch.

A folk art

One of the finest examples of Kamangari art is in Aina Mahal, an 18th century palace in Bhuj. Here, the corridor is painted with a 47 feet scroll titled Nagpanchami Ashwari, by Kamangar artist Juma Ebrahim. The scroll begins with a royal procession with a mounted Arab cavalier, Arab soldiers, a cannon drawn by a pair of bullocks, a chariot of the family deity, and a group of camel riders. In the middle of the scroll is Maharao Shri Pragmalji II on a caparisoned elephant. The ethnicity of every individual is represented by their costume.

The paintbrushes were made from the bark of the local date palm, and the colours sourced from tree bark, flowers and stones. The artists would paint on wet plaster to ensure permanence.

For all its beauty, says Zaveri, Kamangari does not appear to have a consistent style. “If you look at two paintings, you will see the difference in the treatment and rendering. For example, the lines on wall paintings are thicker than those in the scrolls. In some places, flowers are used to fill gaps — like in a temple in Anjar — but in other places this is missing.”

Kamangari artwork at MacMurdo’s bungalow in Anjar. Photo: Vijay Soneji
Kamangari artwork at MacMurdo’s bungalow in Anjar. Photo: Vijay Soneji

Artists essentially followed their patron’s instructions. As the rich traders who commissioned this art travelled abroad, the art saw changes too. “The artists were given postcards from these places, and they would then draw characters inspired from the West but wearing a Kutchi pagdi, or the women would have long skirts,” Zaveri says.

In a Jain temple in the Abdasa taluka of Kutch, a man is shown wearing a hat but in a dhoti and long coat. Some later paintings depict British soldiers in uniform. Others have aeroplanes, rail engines, and even a game of cricket.

MacMurdo’s bungalow in Anjar. Photo: Vijay Soneji
MacMurdo’s bungalow in Anjar. Photo: Vijay Soneji

At the bungalow of James MacMurdo in Anjar, the first political resident of the East Indian Company in Kutch, you can see Krishna and the Gopis dressed in the traditional attire of the Rabari community, complete with the nath (nose-ring). Much of the work also showed influences of the Mughal and Rajasthani styles.

The decline

According to Zaveri, Kamangari was popular until the early 20th century. Then, around the time of the Great Depression, its patrons began to migrate out of Kutch, and homes were locked up or abandoned. The murals degenerated and new occupants painted over them. The Kamangari artists turned to other livelihoods.

“The 2001 Kutch earthquake dealt another severe blow; many houses that had the last few paintings came down,” says Zaveri. Now there are only three places in Kutch with well-preserved Kamangari — the fort in Tera, MacMurdo’s bungalow in Anjar, and an ancestral home in Mundra, belonging to Kalubhai Vaghela.

There have been some feeble attempts by the government to revive the art, but more promising is a new project. Dalpat Danidharia, a librarian at Bhuj’s Prag Mahal, a 19th century palace, says: “Some of us who are passionate about saving Kamangari from disappearing from public memory are working on commissioning artists to create replicas.” The aim, he says, is to let everyone experience this vibrant Kutchi heritage before it’s lost forever.

When not researching new stories, the Gujarat-based freelance journalist likes spinning tales for her toddler.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Azera Parveen Rahman / September 29th, 2018

Revisiting Sheikh Salim Chisti’s tomb

Amazing Feats, Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Community Involvement / Social Issues, Leaders, Travel & Tourism, World Opinion, , , , , , , , , ,

Fatehpur Sikri (Agra District), UTTAR PRADESH :

Soothing experience: Sheikh Salim Chisti’s tomb in Fatehpur Sikri | Photo Credit: V_V_Krishnan
Soothing experience: Sheikh Salim Chisti’s tomb in Fatehpur Sikri | Photo Credit: V_V_Krishnan

Reminiscing a slow but stimulating journey to Akbar’s capital city

When Marion and Sally, two English teachers of St Thomas’ School, Mandir Marg, set out on a trip to Fatehpur Sikri in 1978, they boarded the last train from Delhi. “It sounds ominous, like the last plane from Da Nang, when South Vietnam was overrun by the Viet Minh,” remarked Sally, “Yes,” recalled Marion. “Many struggled to board the plane. Some were left behind but in the melee an enterprising Western reporter was not only able to capture the heart-wrenching scene, but also played the hero by helping a hysterical woman and her kid take his seat on the plane as he jumped down to shoot what later turned out to be award-winning pictures of the airport scramble.”

The last train from Old Delhi station did not cause any such frenzied commotion. Over 40 years ago it was the one that was supposed to leave just before midnight, but the departure was invariably delayed. From Delhi Main station it ran up to Agra Cantt, its destination, and took seven hours to do so, usually even more. The passenger train had a whole lot of policemen travelling in it. As a matter of fact, right from the ticket window they made their presence felt when they pulled suspicious-looking youths out of the queue and slapped and punched them before asking questions like, “Where are you going? Where did you get the money to buy the ticket? Are you drunk? Who else is travelling along with you? Where do you live?” before searching them with their shirts off and pants down,” the two teachers recalled.

A view of Hiran Minar
A view of Hiran Minar

When they caught the train they didn’t see those young men again. The train made three false starts, provoking someone to remark that the driver was shaking the compartments to fit in more passengers. Finally it started rolling, with several urchins rushing to catch it. By the time the train reached New Delhi station it was nearly 1 a.m. After that the Passenger stopped at every station big or small and as people got down, many were detained and searched by policemen on the platform. But the two girls reached Agra Cantt station safely. From there they were escorted by friends Sam, Lewis and this scribe by car to Sikri.

The shrine at Fatehpur Sikri is one of the most venerated places. Where wild animals once roamed a gem of a monument now greets the eye,” disclosed Sam. “It was here on a hill that Sheikh Salim Chisti dwelt and thither came Akbar the Great to seek his help for the birth of a son and heir apparent. He came on foot, leaving his camels, elephants and horses behind. The hermit sat with a rosary (tasbi) reciting the 99 names of Allah. The emperor’s prayers were heard and his Rajput queen bore a son, Salim, whom Akbar always called Sheikhu Baba, after the saint. Not only that, he built this magnificent city to commemorate the event and dwelt here with his Nine Jewels, like the Nine Worthies of the ancient world. “I have heard about the Nine Jewels,” said Marion, “but who were the Nine Worthies?” “Hector, Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Joshua, David, Judas Maccabaeus, King Arthur, Charlemagne and Godfrey of Bouillon,” replied Sam without batting an eyelid.

Akbar’s legacy

Sam related his tale standing by Sally’s side. She listened, her doe eyes thoughtful. As they approached the trellis of the shrine where people who seek favours tie a thread, she tied one too, making Sam wonder what she had sought. They next went to the Buland Darwaza and saw the town of Sikri spread out before them. Nearby is the water works set up by Akbar and from above the ramparts a man dived 80 feet into the baoli or step-well. They looked aghast. “Just you wait and see,” said Sam as Lewis nodded in approval. Soon a dare-devil emerged and salaam-ed them. They tipped him and he walked away to prepare for another demonstration. “These divers have been continuing the tradition for several centuries. VIPs and common people alike tip them. Perhaps, it will continue so long as there is water in the baoli. But it is a paradox that Akbar, who built a new capital here, had to desert it because of water scarcity.” Sam informed the party. They went down the steps of Buland Darwaza, Sam pointing out the Hiran Minar from where the shikar was shot in Mughal times, though some think that Akbar’s famous elephant was buried there and perhaps that’s why it is also called Elephant Tower.

At Sikri town they had the fabulous 24-layer Mughalia parantha. “Why is this parantha so thick?” enquired Marion. “It could feed one whole family.” “Quite right,” said Sam. “Ask Sally, when we were last here she had to take half the parantha to Delhi where we had it for breakfast the next day and the remainder for lunch.”

“Did Akbar really play with women as chess pieces? “enquired Sally.” Off course he did,” replied Sam. “Don’t talk rubbish. Listening to you one would imagine the great Akbar had nothing else to do but seduce maids of honour”, admonished Lewis. From there the party went to the Taj Mahal and then caught the Taj Express back to Delhi after a memorable day. Marion and Sally are now back in England and Sam works in Bangalore, where Lewis keeps reminding him of the visit whenever he rings up from Kolkata.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture – Down Memory Lane / by R.V. Smith / October 01st, 2018

Muslims in Kolkata find a place to call home

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Community Involvement / Social Issues, Travel & Tourism, , , , , , , ,

Kolkata, WEST BENGAL :

Tanvi Sultana speaks at a gathering organised by Sanghati Abhijan at Jadavpur. Photo: Special Arrangement
Tanvi Sultana speaks at a gathering organised by Sanghati Abhijan at Jadavpur. Photo: Special Arrangement

Two voluntary groups enable Hindus and Muslims to interact and look beyond communal misconceptions.

After being turned away by several landlords for months, Aftab Alam and his three friends, all of them doctors, finally found a place to rent in south Kolkata. Their elation, however, was short-lived. Soon after moving in, a neighbour told their landlord that they ought to be evicted, arguing, “Four Muslim men staying in a predominantly Hindu neighbourhood is problematic.”

Dr. Alam recalls, “It was disheartening. I rented the flat to the rest after strenuous night shifts. Suddenly, the peace was disrupted…[we had] huge expectations from Kolkata.”

His predicament was unexpectedly addressed. When he spoke of it on social media, Dr. Alam was contacted by Sanghati Abhijan (SA), a voluntary group that recently initiated its ‘Open-a-Door’ campaign to stop discrimination against potential Muslim tenants. SA’s volunteers resolved the situation by engaging peacefully with the neighbours, the landlord and the tenants themselves.

“We thank them for their support at a critical time,” says Dr. Alam. The intervention helped him and his friends stay on instead of relocating, as they had first planned.

‘Communal remarks’

In another instance, Tanvi Sultana, an undergraduate student, was allegedly targeted with “communal remarks” while looking for a flat in south Kolkata, at times being instructed not to bring beef to her residence. As with Dr. Alam and his friends, SA helped her live in the same apartment. “I thank them and wish for the initiative to grow,” Ms. Sultana says.

Since February, SA has helped about 30 such home-seekers in dire need via its social media group, ‘People’s Unity’. The platform provides a database of houses, apartments and guest houses, with information such on the location of the property, contact details of owners, and rent. The group’s meetings are eye-openers on the communal tensions between property owners and tenants.

“We only enlist property owners who are keen on letting out accommodation without discriminating against a particular faith or on the basis of marital status,” said Dwaipayan Banerjee, one of SA’s co-founders. However, Mr. Banerjee admits that while “hundreds” of tenants approach them, the property owners are “far fewer” in numbers.

SA’s members say they want to “break the culture of silence” which, in turn, could “curb rising Islamophobia.” Anindya Ray Ahmed, a student, was told openly by brokers, “Muslims are dirty and potential terrorists.”

He was ‘rejected’ by 16 landlords before he could find a place to live, but after accepting a deposit, the landlady telephoned him to say, “My husband has a problem with Muslims, so you cannot stay.” Mr. Ahmed alleges that she lowered his deposit down in a bag from her floor above, declining to “stand near a Muslim.”

SA’s members favour direct mediation, but their Facebook page has witnessed about 150 such disagreements and their resolution through virtual owner-tenant interaction on the social media platform.

In another incident, SA informed the Jadavpur University Teachers’ Association and authorities when two students faced misbehaviour from the superintendent and boarders at their hostel “for being Muslim.” An enquiry committee is looking into this case.

SA member Deborshi Chakraborty calls this “exponential ghettoisation” because, often, Muslim tenants seek proximity to their religious peers so that they will not be judged.

Alongside, SA has been prey to moral policing and expressions of paranoia by potential lessors.

The campaign has apparently irked Tripura’s former Governor Tathagata Roy, now Governor of Meghalaya. On August 11, he re-posted a newspaper article on SA and remarked on social media that the paper was trying to “teach Hindu house-owners of Kolkata that they must rent out their premises to Muslims. Otherwise, they are not sufficiently ‘secular’.”

Along similar lines, the Know Your Neighbour (KYN) campaign aimed at reducing communal tensions between Hindus and Muslims is gaining momentum in Kolkata and several districts, too. On a shoestring budget, KYN has organised meetings, sponsored heritage walks, staged plays, and focussed on food to find common ground.

Participants of the Know Your Neighbour campaign visit to Metiabruz in Kolkata. Photo: Anirban Kar | Photo Credit: Anirban Kar
Participants of the Know Your Neighbour campaign visit to Metiabruz in Kolkata. Photo: Anirban Kar | Photo Credit: Anirban Kar

Food walks

“We arrange food walks as the city has a massive culinary culture developed over centuries,” said Sabir Ahamed, a KYN organiser. “Cultural ignorance brews fear. Financial constraints coupled with little-known practices like the Dastarkhān, a traditional space for meals kept on a yellow cloth featuring Urdu couplets, became the basis for speculation over why Muslims ‘eat in bed’. Such ‘myths’ must be broken, which is why we translate the Muslim ‘jargon’ that often dictates daily routine,” says Mr. Ahamed. His intends to delve deeper into this in his forthcoming Masjidi Kolkata project.

KYN’s walks journey into quintessential ‘Muslim pockets’ of Kolkata — Metiabruz, Khidderpore and parts of central Kolkata around the mosques set up by Muslims from Kutch — are followed by interactions with locals.

“Although I am a resident of Kolkata, I had never been to Khidderpore. I took this opportunity to know more about Bengal’s Islamic culture, and to redeem myself of the guilt of assuming that it is a crime-prone area,” says Sanjukta Choudhury, who participated in a KYN walk.

Novelist, academic and foodie Samim Ahmed, an expert on both the Mahabharata and Nawab Wajid Ali Shah’s Bengal, says visits to areas like the Sibtainabad Imambara, a less ornate grave of the last King of Oudh, Wajid Ali Shah, “adds more excitement to the walk.”

Often, visitors discuss food traditions with locals and learn, for instance, about the German bread distributed in Kolkata during the Second World War, dry fruits, and recipes for delicious haleem and biryani.

Non-Muslims are invited to break bread with their Muslim counterparts in KYN’s ‘Dosti ki Iftari’ get-together.

Linguistic explorations, such as tracing the etymological roots of ‘azaan’ (the Islamic call for worship) ringing within the old architecture of the Nakhoda Masjid, are also encouraged.

“Hindus barely visit these pockets of Kolkata, whereas such paranoia is less intense in the rural areas. We aim to eradicate cultural misconceptions by spreading knowledge on prevalent Islamic practices,” Mr. Ahmed says, adding, “Such walks provide an opportunity for communities to know each other in an atmosphere of unmitigated fun.”

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Kolkata / by Tannistha Sinha / Kolkata – August 25th, 2018

Second Lucknow ‘fixed’ in sepia

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Community Involvement / Social Issues, Leaders, Travel & Tourism, World Opinion, , , , , , , , , , ,

WEST BENGAL :

Liveried servants of the Nawab of Oudh wait with a palanquin in one of the rare photographs of Metiabruz, during Wajid Ali Shah’s time. The royal insignia is embroidered on the back of one of them. Copied from the original by Rashbehari Das
Liveried servants of the Nawab of Oudh wait with a palanquin in one of the rare photographs of Metiabruz, during Wajid Ali Shah’s time. The royal insignia is embroidered on the back of one of them. Copied from the original by Rashbehari Das

A portfolio of fast-fading photographs that provides possibly the only pictorial document of the second Lucknow that Wajid Ali Shah had created in Metiabruz, after he was exiled there, is urgently in need of preservation. The photographs are, moreover, some of the earliest examples of the art as practised the world over.

Amjad Ali Mirza of Garden Reach Road, in his 60s, who is a great-great-grandson of the ruler of Oudh, possesses the photographs. But he doesn’t know how to preserve these friable prints whose sepia has, in some cases, turned a ghostly shadow of its former self. Says Mirza: “I have no doubt about the authenticity of the photographs. The portfolio is ancestral property. It was handed down to me by my uncle, Yaqub Ali Mirza, who died in 1973.” Some of the photographs are captioned in Urdu. But the identity of the photographer shall always remain a mystery. Oscar Mallitte, a French commercial photographer, we know, had captured a view of the village at Garden Reach, circa 1864, but there is no evidence he did this assignment.

Abdul Halim Sharar (1860-1926) tells the story of Oudh in his book Lucknow: The Last Phase of an Oriental Culture. In it, he has also documented the last days of Wajid Ali Shah in Metiabruz, where he set up a city whose splendour surpassed Lucknow’s glory in the pre-Mutiny days. The palaces, pleasure gardens and zoo that the Nawab had created on the banks of the Hooghly come alive in these photographs, not much larger than postcards. It is as if chemicals and light had “fixed” the scenes that Sharar’s readers conjure up in their mind’s eye.

Soon after the Mutiny had fizzled out, the Nawab was released from confinement in Fort William and he returned to Metiabruz. There, while turning abstemious, he developed a passion for animals and for building beautiful houses. Before the Zoological Gardens was established in Alipore in 1876, the Nawab had already acquired a large menagerie that included rare birds, deer, horses and an open-air snake-pit that left visitors awestruck. But after Wajid Ali Shah’s death in 1887, Metiabruz became a hell-hole almost overnight.

The photographs prove that Sharar, when he described Metiabruz, never deviated from reality. Unlike the Lucknow architecture, with its embarrassment of stucco ornaments, the buildings of Metiabruz are constructed on the lines of European bungalows. The lines are simple but no less grand than the palaces of Lucknow.

Overlooking the river or surrounded by expanses of water, they are connected by bridges. Flags flutter on their tiled roofs. There is hardly any Islamic influence in their architecture, save a low-rise with triple minarets. Ostriches, deer, sheep and horses were the showpieces of the Metiabruz parkland. The snake-pit resembles a giant termite hill. One can almost hear the harsh calls of the clumsy pelicans and cranes strutting around the aviary. The liveried servants wait outside the palace gate with a palanquin. The piscine insignia of the royal family of Oudh is stitched on to the back of one man’s coat. There are two significant photographs. In one, the gang of smiling labourers carry construction material on their heads as they create the new Metiabruz. Another shows the buildings of Metiabruz being demolished. An exquisite way of life being wiped away forever.

source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph / Home> West Bengal / by Soumitra Das in Mirza / July 14th, 2003

A Place for Us a ‘quintessentially American’ tale? Fatima Farheen Mirza answers

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Community Involvement / Social Issues, NRI's / PIO's, World Opinion, , , ,

Hyderabad, INDIA / California, U.S.A :

Writing about an immigrant Muslim family in America, A Place for Us author Fatima Farheen Mirza says she wanted to place their lives and concerns at the centre of the narrative.

Visiting India for the first time five years ago, author Fatima Farheen Mirza visited the masjid (mosque) where her parents had her nikkah (wedding), in the city of Hyderabad. Fatima was then the same age that her mother was the same number of years ago.

“A man was sitting outside in the courtyard, threading flowers that would decorate one of the shrines. I asked if I could have one flower, because I wanted a souvenir of the place, and he denied me. I remember telling him, ‘But my mother got married here’. And he looked at me, asked me to wait for a minute, and then threaded an elaborate string of flowers that I could tie to wear in my hair. I’ll never forget it.”

This is how Fatima describes that moment. It is almost as if this passage has filtered out of the consciousness of one of the characters of her famous debut, A Place for Us. As a family gathers for the nikkah of their eldest child, the obedient, precocious doctor Hadia, their youngest, the delinquent, the errant Amar, cannot be found for the family photograph. This is a family, but the discord is unbelievable, and the silhouette of the elephant in the room grows darker and darker.

“I wanted to do my best [for] this family. I wanted to do justice to their lives, I wanted to understand their experience with as much complexity and care as I possibly could. I loved them, and it was a privilege to be able to write about them,” says Fatima about the book’s keenly felt impulses, its ability to pick up life’s mundane moments lying unnoticed in our midst and light them up with meaning. A Place for Us was recently chosen by Sarah Jessica Parker — Carrie Bradshaw of the hit American sitcom Sex and the City — for her publishing debut with her imprint for Hogarth Press. And while Parker has called it a “book about a quintessentially American family”, Pulitzer Prize-winner novelist Paul Harding has exalted it as “a work of extraordinary and enthralling beauty”.

Born and raised in California, it is natural to assume that Fatima not only spoke and wrote English for the majority of her life, but wrote about characters that belonged to a certain place, a certain way of life. How did the book come about? “Writing has always been a part of my life. Recently, I was surprised to find a story from when I was maybe seven or eight, because it was written in both Urdu and English—an impulse that returned when I was working on the novel. But throughout high school, I wrote about characters with names like Corrie, and now I wonder if my imagination had internalized the belief that stories belonged only to the kind of characters I’d grown up consuming. I remember pausing when I first wrote the name Hadia, how I not sure if I could proceed, but once I started writing about this family, I was committed,” says Fatima.

But conceptualising Hadia — which means the ‘guided one’, and is the ideal daughter, freethinking but also committed and devoted, and thinking for her — surely must have come somewhere from inside Fatima, who was once pursuing medicine, and has similar beliefs about religion and autonomy?

“Once seeds from one’s own life are planted into the novel, they are altered by the personality of the characters, and begin to take on their own significance. I might relate to the pressure Hadia feels to pursue a medical career path in order to make her parents proud, or Amar, keeping journals and looking to lines of poetry as a way to make sense of his own life — but the way these pursuits and pressures manifest in Hadia and Amar’s life is theirs alone,” Fatima shares.

At a moment in the novel, Hadia, soon to turn nine, contemplates intensely on the looming prospect of wearing the hijab, which her faith requires of her. With religious symbols coming under a lot of fire lately throughout the world, how does choosing or rejecting the hijab empower Hadia or her mother Layla? “Each character is aware of what the world wants from them. They have to navigate what their community, family, and faith want from them. It can be difficult, in the face of all of this, to know what they want for themselves. Figuring out their desires and attempting to make choices is what each of the characters contends with,” she says.

“[So], they are empowered when they make a choice that is aligned with their inner voice. This also applies to religious practices — Layla is empowered when she wears the hijab, and Hadia, when she decides not to.” And indeed, when not touching your deepest impulses about life and relationships, A Place for Us is a work about the significance of choices: An otherwise patriarchal father passes on a watch meant for a son, to his daughter. A deeply conservative mother gathers the courage to roll up her shalwar to meet her little son in the river. A young couple in love chooses to continue to meet in private, risking everything at stake for their families.

In this book about a quintessentially American family, white characters make short appearances as the immigrant minority dominates the focus, and their customs and sensibility — Sunday school, the significance of prayer, community gatherings — comes to the forefront of an American consciousness. Can one interpret this novel, then, as an attempt to envision a new America?

“This is rather [my way] of presenting the experience of living in America that is true to these characters. I wanted to place their lives, their concerns, at the centre of the narrative. If what results is a version of America that seems new, then what that speaks to is the lack of adequate representation in literature — because these lives are here, they have been here, and they have stories to tell,” Fatima says.

Modest though she may be — Fatima has undeniably mastered the art of sticking to describing life through memory. From the first scene, the narrative shifts into a series of flashbacks, in no particular sequence, from the collective consciousness of this family. From the parents’ wedding in India, their relocation to the US, the birth of their kids, the little moments as they grow up — the childhood stories, picnics, crushes, school, their rivalries and revelries — the narrative reveals itself both all at once and in parts.

And she explains the systematic revelation and withholding of information that take place through such a technique. “The [flashbacks] appear the way memories rise in a mind trying to understand something about one’s past — seemingly at random, skirting around a conflict, until enough context is understood that the centre of the conflict can be tunneled towards.”

Most of A Place for Us is poetry, and poetry is what moves its author. “I loved and returned to The Lover by Marguirite Duras and The Great Fire by Shirley Hazzard. I listened endlessly to Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings, trying to pay attention to the mood and movement in it, and how that could translate into the way I thought about the structure for the sections within the novel. I wrote and rewrote quotes by Muhammad Ali into my journal to stay focused,” says Fatima, who is learning boxing these days.

Interact with the author @Prannay13

source: http://www.hindustantimes.com / Hindustan Times / Home> Books / by Prannay, Hindustan Times / September 19th, 2018