The marble throne of Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal emperor, symbolizes a collapsed dynasty, now housed in a museum near Humayun’s Tomb in Delhi.
Delhiwale: The ultimate Mughal souvenir
Behold this marble throne. Preserved inside a glass case at the Humayun World Heritage Site Museum in Delhi, it was once the stately seat of Bahadur Shah Zafar. As the last Mughal sovereign, the poet-king is likely to have sat on this throne while reflecting on the dissolution of his 300-year-old dynasty. The throne is, in fact, less ostentatious than the throne-like sofas found in the drawing rooms of Delhi’s wealthy today. Yet it is far more elegant. The armrests are supported on latticework, and faint flecks of colour cling to the marble like the last glimmers of extinguished stars. The fragile-seeming relic assumes truly epic proportions as the viewer connects it to the legend of a collapsed empire whose layered legacy continues to resonate in our republic (vividly chronicled in this newspaper yesterday).
The Mughals spanned over 18 rulers. Their kissa-kahani began 500 years ago in 1526, when Babur defeated Delhi Sultan Ibrahim Lodi in a field 80 kilometres from Delhi. Soon after, Babur entered the city and visited the shrine of the mystic Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya. At that time, nobody would have guessed that this pilgrimage would recur across generations of Mughals, binding them to the city’s sacred, grave-dotted topography.
Truth be told, Delhi surpasses the dynasty’s other great centres, Agra and Lahore. Shahjahan may have built the immortal Taj in Agra, but his creation of Old Delhi throbs more with real life. For Delhi’s pre-eminence in Mughal India, we must first credit Babur’s son, Humayun, who established his capital, Dinpanah—today’s Purana Qila—near the shrine of Hazrat Nizamuddin. His son Akbar later built Humayun’s mausoleum close to the same shrine.
Over time, Humayun’s Tomb came to be known as the “dormitory of the Mughals.” This 16th-century complex contains 160 graves of kings, princes, and princesses, representing a broad cross-section of the dynasty. Seven Mughal emperors are buried here: Humayun, Azam Shah, Jahandar Shah, Farrukhsiyar, Rafi ud-Darajat, Rafi ud-Daulah, and Alamgir II. It was here, at Humayun’s Tomb, that Bahadur Shah Zafar took refuge after the collapse of the 1857 uprising against the British. He was captured at this very site, marking the end of the Mughal Empire.
The aforementioned museum, which houses Zafar’s throne, is across the road from Humayun’s Tomb. In the lead-up to its inauguration two years ago, a significant moment was the installation of the throne, personally overseen by museum curator Ratish Nanda—see photo. A conservation architect, Nanda had earlier helped restore the garden around the first Mughal emperor’s tomb in Kabul.
As for the last Mughal, the unfortunate Zafar had intended to be buried in Delhi, but the British exiled him to Rangoon, where he was finally laid to rest. As a consolation, his ill-fated throne may be seen as a symbolic substitute for his Delhi tomb. Indeed, as the tomb of his dynasty itself.
source: http://www.hindustantimes.com / Hindustan Times / Home / by HT Correspondent / May 04th, 2026
At a time when the stage was closed to women from conservative Muslim households, Ayesha walked into the spotlight at 16, confronting hostility that ranged from social ostracism to outright violence.
Nilambur Ayesha, Kerala’s first Muslim woman theatre artist.(Photo | Special Arrangement)
Malappuram :
Nilambur Ayesha, the indomitable force who shattered barriers to become the state’s first Muslim woman theatre artist, steps into her ninth decade with a legacy forged in courage, resistance and uncompromising artistry. Her life is not merely a story of performance, but a defiant march against religious orthodoxy that sought to silence her.
At a time when the stage was closed to women from conservative Muslim households, Ayesha walked into the spotlight at just 16, confronting hostility that ranged from social ostracism to outright violence. For generations of Malayalis, the very mention of drama evokes her name, a testament to a contribution that redefined Malayalam theatre.
Born into a once-prosperous family in Nilambur, Ayesha’s early life was marked by upheaval. Her father’s sudden death pushed the family into crisis. At 13, she was forced into marriage with a man decades older. The relationship lasted only days, leaving her to raise an infant daughter alone. She survived by selling rice and grinding grain, battling poverty with relentless determination.
It was in these harsh circumstances that playwright E K Ayamu invited her to act in a play staged by the Nilambur Yuvajana Kala Samithi. Backed by her brother Manu Muhammed but opposed by her mother, Ayesha chose the stage over submission. “No one who cannot save us has the right to punish us,” she declared, stepping into a world that would test her endurance at every turn.
The backlash was swift and brutal. When she first performed at Farooq Lakshmi Talkies under the banner of the Communist movement, it sent shockwaves through society. A Muslim woman on stage was seen as an act of rebellion. Stones were hurled at her during a performance in Nadapuram, leaving her bleeding, yet she refused to abandon the stage. In Manjeri, gunfire erupted during a play, narrowly missing her. In another incident, she was assaulted inside a make-up room. Each attack was meant to break her spirit. None succeeded.
Ayesha recalls those years with unflinching clarity. “I can never forget that. My first play was ‘Ijjh Nalla Mansan Aakan Nokku’. There was fierce opposition. The shooting incident when I was 16 was part of that. But I was not ready to give up and go back,” she said. “The Communist movement was always with me.”
Her journey extended beyond theatre into cinema, where she carved a notable presence. She acted in films such as Kandam Becha Kottu, Kavyamela, Kuttikkuppayam, Olavum Theeravum and Paleri Manikyam. She also performed with leading drama troupes, including K T Mohammed’s Kalinga Theatre, and took on demanding roles, including four characters in Kurangu Rasayanam.
Hardship followed even at the peak of her artistic journey. Driven by financial distress, she worked as a domestic worker in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, for 19 years. Yet, she returned to the stage with renewed resolve, eventually performing in more than 29,000 shows.
Ayesha’s life has since entered academic discourse, studied by undergraduate students as part of their curriculum. Her journey, documented in Basheer Chungathara’s work, stands as a powerful narrative of resistance and artistic integrity.
Her achievements have been widely recognised. She received the Kerala Sangeetha Nataka Akademi Award for Best Actress in 2002, the SL Puram Sadanandan Award for overall contribution, and the Kerala State Film Award for Second Best Actress in 2011. The film Ayesha, starring Manju Warrier, draws inspiration from her life in the Gulf.
Reflecting on her journey, Ayesha says, “Whatever cinema has captured of my life has given me joy. It feels like my life has been accepted.”
Her legacy is now being celebrated in a three-day tribute organised by the Moyinkutty Vaidyar Mappila Kala Academy in Kondotty. The ‘Navathi Adharam’ celebrations opened with a film festival featuring works connected to her life and career. The final day included the screening of a documentary and a gathering of theatre workers, culminating in a felicitation where CPM state secretariat member M Swaraj honoured the veteran artist.
Ayesha did not merely perform on stage. She fought for her place on it, and in doing so, redrew the boundaries of art, courage and freedom.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Kerala / by Lakshmi Athira / May 04th,2026
Megan Eaton Robb’s book Print & the Urdu Public chronicles the history of Muslims, newspapers and urban life in colonial India
ONE of my friends, Afroz Alam Saahil, who works on such varied topics like Muhammad Ali Jauhar, Palestine, and Hamdard, recently rang me up from Turkey and asked me if I could recommend a book that would give him an understanding of the current work being done in relation to Urdu. His question put me in a dilemma: which book should I recommend? Eventually, I turned to Google and came across a remarkable book. After a cursory glance, I realised that it was truly a valuable book. It evoked a lot of interest in me and I started reading it thoroughly. I was so enchanted that I could not put it down until I had consumed all of it.
It is surprising that the book’s author did not come from any of the South Asian countries; Megan Eaton Robb was, in fact, raised in Europe and received her entire education in the United States. Urdu has not been her mother tongue, nor did she grow up in the streets and alleys of Bijnor, Lucknow, Delhi, Lahore or Karachi. Yet she took on a subject that our own historians, writers, and journalists had either overlooked or only addressed superficially. Megan, however, approached it with such depth, scholarly rigour, and logical precision that while reading her book, I repeatedly felt that this was not an external voice but one that spoke from within. Failing to acknowledge her work would certainly be an injustice. She deserves the gratitude of the entire Urdu-speaking world for this monumental work.
The book’s contents include: Preface; Introduction, “A Public Is a Place and Time: Dimensions of an Urdu Public Sphere”; Chapter 1: “Putting the Public House of Madīnah on the Muslim Map”; Chapter 2: “Back to the Future Qasbah: The Timescape of Bijnor”; Chapter 3: “Urdu Lithography as a Muslim Technology”; Chapter 4: “Viewing the Map of Europe through the Lens of Islam”; Chapter 5: “Provincialising Policies through the Urdu Public”; Conclusion: “The Public as a Timescape”; Transliteration and Citation Method; Appendix I: General Glossary; Appendix II: Proposal for Qualifications for Electors in Bijnor, 1913; Appendix III: Editors and Journalists of Madīnah, 1912–1948; Appendix IV: Spring Season; Bibliography; and Index.
All of this is based on a study of more than a thousand issues of Madīnah newspaper, local records from Bijnor, English reports, and a comparative analysis of other Urdu newspapers. In brief, if one were to sum up this book, it can be said that Megan Eaton Robb’s Print & The Urdu Public: Muslims, Newspapers, and Urban Life in Colonial India (Oxford University Press, 2021) is a milestone in the study of modern South Asian history, media studies, Muslim politics, and print culture.
This book does not merely recount the history of Bijnor’s famous newspaper Madīnah, but also demonstrates that the collective consciousness, political awareness, and global Islamic imagination that emerged among Indian Muslims in the early 20th century were rooted more deeply in the printing presses of small towns rather than in the major cities of Delhi, Lucknow, Aligarh, or Lahore. These towns included Bijnor, Mau, Azamgarh, Gaya, Patna, and others.
Challenging the Stereotype
The book challenges the assumption that modern Muslim political consciousness and public debate were shaped solely by large cities and the elite. Instead, it shows that the small-town elite, owing to their geographical isolation and historical continuity, created a narrative that was not only local but also global in scope, grounded in the past while looking towards the future.
The author’s central argument is that to understand the Urdu public, we must move beyond the conventional notion of geographical centrality and recognise that real power often lay at the margins. Why did a newspaper originating in a remote town gain such widespread popularity across North India and Punjab? In answering this question, Megan Robb presents not only an outstanding historical study but also a new theoretical framework, which she calls the “timescape”, the interrelation of time and space.
The book opens with an intriguing story. In 1912, Muhammad Majid Hasan, belonging to a middle-class family of Bijnor, sold his wife’s jewellery to establish the newspaper Madīnah. He was neither from a prominent family nor an alumnus of well-known institutions such as Aligarh or Deoband. Yet, within just a few years, his newspaper reached every corner of North India and Punjab. No one could have imagined that Madīnah would one day become the most widely read Urdu newspaper in North India, eagerly awaited even by readers in Lahore, Delhi, and Lucknow. The extraordinary success of Madīnah was a sign that, in colonial India, public understanding was no longer confined to major cities but had extended to towns and villages as well. Megan Robb takes this trend as her subject and demonstrates how small-town print media provincialised national and global politics while also bringing provincial issues to national and international attention.
Among the editors of Madīnah were some of the most renowned and distinguished personalities of the Indian subcontinent, including Maulvi Syed Nūr ul-Ḥasan Żahīn Karatpūrī, Syed Muḥammad Lā’iq Ḥussain Qavī “Zamurrud-raqam” Amrohavī, M. Āghā Rafīq Bulandshahrī, Maulānā Maz̤har ud-Dīn Sherkoṭī, Maulānā Amīn Aḥsan Iṣlāḥī, Maulānā Badrul Ḥasan “Jalālī”, Maulvi Nūr ul-Raḥmān (BA), Muḥammad Aḥsan Morādābādī, Maulānā Naṣrullah Khān “Āzīz”, Ḥamīd Ḥasan “Fak̲h̲r” Bijnorī, M. Shabbīr Beg, Maulānā Ḥāmidul Anṣārī “Ghāzī”, and Abū Sa‘īd “Bazmī”. Other prominent contributors included such towering figures as Maulānā Syed Abū al-A‘lā Maudūdī, Qāżī Muḥammad ‘Adīl “Abāṣī”, Maulānā Muḥammad Uṣmān Fāreqleet, Maulvi Shabīr ul-Raḥmān Chāndpūrī, “Māhir” ul-Qādrī, Qādūs Ṣāḥibā’ī, and Maulānā Shaukat ‘Alī. Upon closer examination, these names do not merely represent the leading writers and journalists of their time; rather, they played an extraordinarily prominent role in the overall intellectual and academic awakening of the 20th-century subcontinent, and their influence can still be felt today in the intellectual history of Muslims. This book also presents a brief introduction to each of them.
The first chapter of the book serves as its foundation, detailing the birth of Madīnah, the history of its owners and editors, and how Urdu became part of the public sphere within a small-town context. This chapter focuses on the book’s central theme: giving precedence to towns rather than cities. Here, the author presents Bijnor as a place that, rather than the urban elite, played a key role in the construction of Muslim identity.
The author’s most significant and original concept is that of time and space. She argues that it is not merely a place but also a period. Historically, the town of Bijnor was close to Mughal Delhi, and its elite families traced their lineage to the Mughal court. Yet, in the early 20th century, due to the lack of railways and modern roads, it had become relatively isolated and secluded. This duality, proximity to the past and distance in the present, granted Madīnah a degree of independence unavailable to the major institutions of Aligarh, Deoband, or Lucknow. Consequently, Madīnah was neither subject to governmental pressure nor entangled in sectarian politics, nor was it captive to the splendour of the nobility. It produced an independent voice that preserved elite traditions while directly engaging with modern political questions.
Treating the Time
The most important part of the book is the second chapter: here the author demonstrates that Bijnor was not a town confined by the past but rather a space that did not perceive time linearly; instead, it treated time as cyclical, flowing, and creatively intertwined, a dynamic perspective. The townspeople considered themselves heirs to the declining elite of Delhi, yet they were not afraid of modernity. As a result, their experience of time encompassed past, present, and future simultaneously. This concept challenges the theoretical frameworks of European thinkers such as Habermas, Anderson, and Warner, who view public spheres in a linear progression of time. In contrast, the Urdu public sphere demonstrates a fusion of time and space: a reader of Madīnah, sitting in Bijnor, would contemplate the fate of the caliphate in Istanbul, mourn the decline of Delhi, and perceive past battles as a continuous part of the present.
The clearest illustration of this worldview is that the Balkan War of 1912 was described as a “Crusade,” the British attack of 1915 was linked to “Karbala,” and the abolition of the caliphate in 1924 was interpreted as a repetition of the fall of Baghdad. It was as if the pen of Bijnor was engaging in a direct dialogue with Jerusalem 700 years earlier and centuries of Islamic history. This insight leads the author to conclude that the true Urdu public sphere was not formed in major cities but in seemingly insignificant yet historically conscious towns like Bijnor, where there were neither railways nor great institutions, but where history itself was the real source of power. It was this historical consciousness that gave the small town a voice, which eventually became the intellectual heartbeat of the 20th-century Muslim India.
The third chapter is perhaps the most unique and captivating part of the book, where the author designates “Urdu lithography” as a “Muslim technology.” Printing is generally considered a neutral technique, but Megan Robb demonstrates that for Urdu speakers, particularly Muslims, lithography was not merely a method of printing but a cultural and political act. Since lithography allowed the Nastaʿlīq script to be printed in all its beauty and fluidity, it was seen as a means of preserving Islamic calligraphy. Madīnah perfected this technique to such an extent that by the 1930s it was regarded as the most beautifully printed newspaper in North India. This beauty was not merely aesthetic but also an expression of identity; it reflected the recognition, culture, and temperament of the elite. Through the lens of material history, the author demonstrates that technology is never neutral but always carries with it an element of identity.
Global Community
The fourth chapter covers the journey from the Balkan Wars to the Khilafat Movement and demonstrates how a small-town newspaper brought Indian Muslims into the broader global Muslim community. During the Balkan Wars of 1912–13, Madīnah presented the defeat of Turkey as an Islamic tragedy, and even in a small town like Bijnor, millions of rupees were collected in support of the caliphate. This was not a mere coincidence; it was rooted in the newspaper’s sustained efforts to teach its readers to view the map of Europe from an Islamic perspective. It was during this period that Indian Muslims for the first time began to perceive themselves as part of a larger unity with Turkey, Iran, the Arab World, and Central Asia. Madīnah nurtured this consciousness so deeply at the small-town level that the Khilafat Movement ceased to be the preserve of urban elites and spread effectively to villages and towns.
The most striking revelation of the book concerns the period after 1937. As the Muslim League was rapidly emerging and the demand for Pakistan was gaining momentum, Madīnah strongly opposed the League. It not only rejected the Lahore Resolution of 1940 but also described the demand for Pakistan as an “elite conspiracy,” consistently supporting figures such as Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, Dr Mukhtar Ahmed Ansari, Hussain Ahmed Madani, and Congress-aligned Muslims. This stance was completely at odds with the major newspapers of Aligarh, Lahore, and Delhi. Megan Robb demonstrates that in the 1940s, not all Muslims supported the idea of Pakistan; a significant number preferred to remain in a united India, representing the small-town elite. Madīnah was the most prominent voice of this alternative perspective.
Past, Present and Future
The author’s most significant theoretical contribution is the concept of the “timescape,” which she elaborates in detail in the final chapter of the book. According to her, to understand the Urdu public, one must view three layers of time together: the past, reflecting historical proximity to Mughal Delhi; the present, representing the geographical isolation of the colonial period; and the future, embodying the dreams of independence and the possibility of partition. Madīnah combined these three temporal dimensions to create a new Islamic, small-town perspective that was neither entirely colonial, nor nationalist, nor sectarian. It constituted an intellectual and cultural framework that preserved tradition while remaining in dialogue with the modern world, a form of identity connected to the veins of the past and in harmony with the horizon of the future, uniting the historical, social, and cultural dimensions of the Urdu public into a novel intellectual landscape.
Non-sectarian Elite Muslim Voice
One of the book’s greatest strengths is that the author meticulously studied nearly every issue of Madīnah and consulted rare material from the British Library, the National Archives of India, the Uttar Pradesh State Archives, the Rampur Raza Library, and private collections in Bijnor. Another remarkable feature is her detailed and outstanding discussion of lithography and the material history of print, which highlights the artistic, cultural, and historical dimensions of printing. The third strength lies in presenting the town not merely as a nostalgic centre of a declining elite but as an active site of political and intellectual engagement. The fourth and most significant strength is that, beyond the binary divide of the Muslim League and the Congress, the book foregrounds a third, small-town, non-sectarian elite Muslim voice, which not only illuminates historical realities but also captures the complex social and cultural dimensions of the Urdu public.
The book also throws up some critical questions. For example, very little attention is given to Madīnah’s relations with Deoband, Nadwatul Ulama, the Farangi Mahal, or the Ahmadiyya; was Madīnah truly as independent as the author claims? Furthermore, the role of women is almost entirely absent from the book; was the small-town public sphere really limited to men? Thirdly, only a few lines are devoted to Madīnah’s history after 1947, was this omission deliberate? And fourthly, at times, the concept of the “timescape” becomes so abstract that it is difficult for the general reader to fully grasp.
Nevertheless, these few critical questions do not diminish the book’s greatness or importance. It helps us to reconsider the political, intellectual, and cultural history of 20th-century Indian Muslims. The book demonstrates that to properly understand the Khilafat Movement, the formation of Muslim identity, opposition to Pakistan, and the aesthetics of Urdu print, one must turn attention to the towns, and newspapers like Madīnah clearly show that the margins often act as the centre.
Megan Eaton Robb deserves the gratitude of the Urdu-speaking world. This book should be read by every student, researcher, and reader who wishes to understand how modern Indian Muslims emerged, where their voices originated, and how they navigated the tension between tradition and modernity. A prompt Urdu translation is essential so that Urdu readers can directly benefit from this remarkable work.
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Mohammad Alamullah is an author and journalist, writing columns, poems, travelogues, and stories. He received his education from Jamia Millia Islamia, Delhi, and Swansea University, UK. He has to his credit several books including Muslim Majlis Mushawarat: Aik Mukhtasar Tareekh, Kaghaz Se Screen Tak, andIran Mein Kuch Din.
source: http://www.clarionindia.net / Clarion India / Home> Opinio / by Mohammad Alamullah / December 04th, 2025
Kasaragod District Kannada Journalists Welfare Association has selected Vartha Bharati journalist Samshuddeen Yenmoor for its annual ‘Dattinidhi Award’.
The association, which has been working for nearly two decades to promote the Kannada language, culture and the welfare of journalists in Kerala, presents this award with sponsorship from Dubai-based entrepreneur James Mendonca.
The award includes a cash prize, citation and memento. It will be presented at a function scheduled on May 16, 2026, at 9:00 am at the Hall of Subbayyakatte Aided Higher Primary School in Kasaragod district.
The programme will be held under the chairmanship of Shivananda Tagadur, State President of Karnataka Union of Working Journalists.
Among those expected to attend are Karnataka Legislative Assembly Deputy Speaker Rudrappa Lamani, Minister N.S. Boseraju, Manjeshwar MLA A.K.M. Ashraf, Chief Minister’s Media Advisor K.V. Prabhakar and Karnataka Border Area Development Authority Chairman Somanna Bevinamarad, among others.
The details were shared in a statement issued by association president Ravi Naikap.
source: http://www.english.varthabharati.in / Vartha Bharati / Home>Karavali / by Vartha Bharati / April 30th, 2026
Rs 1 crore to be provided for Beary community hall in Kodagu: Speaker U T Khader
Madikeri:
Karnataka Legislative Assembly Speaker U T Khader said that Rs 1 crore will be allocated for the construction of a Beary community hall in Kodagu district, and directed officials to identify suitable land for the project.
He was speaking after inaugurating the first Kodagu District Beary Literary Conference organised by the Karnataka Beary Sahitya Academy in association with the Kodagu Bearys Welfare Trust.
The event was presided over by B A Shamshuddin. Khader said the grant of Rs 1 crore would be facilitated with the support of local MLA Mantar Gowda and Virajpet MLA as well as Chief Minister’s legal advisor A S Ponnanna.
Highlighting the cultural importance of the community, he said Beary culture, literature and traditions have a distinct history and called for efforts to preserve and promote them.
He said the literary conference would help encourage discussions, strengthen the Beary language, and guide the community towards development. It would also help educate youth about Beary literature, culture and history, and provide a platform for exchange of ideas.
Khader also stressed the importance of learning and respecting all languages, stating that in a globally connected world, multilingualism promotes harmony.
Speaking on the occasion, MLA Mantar Gowda assured that funds would be released once land is identified for the construction of the community hall.
source: http://www.msn.com / MSN / Home / by Newspoint / April 2026
“Gharara is not just a dress; it is a cultural legacy of my city. The Rampur gharara was once worn by the Nawabs of the state, who adorned it to enhance their regal and graceful appearance. It is, truly, a royal garment.”
This was said by Shehla Khan, widely credited with reviving the Rampur gharara in the modern fashion world, in a special interview with Anjali Ada of Awaz-the Voice. Shehla describes the gharara as an ancient attire that was once on the verge of extinction.
Tracing its origins, she explains that in 1774, Nawab Faizullah Khan brought skilled craftsmen to Rampur, giving rise to this intricate art form. However, over time, the craft began to fade away.
Reflecting on her own journey, Shehla Khan says her entry into fashion was purely accidental. “I am not just a fashion designer; I am also a lawyer and a social worker. I have even contested elections. During my campaign, I travelled extensively and came across artisans engaged in fine embroidery. When I spoke to them about their lives, I realised how difficult it was for them to make ends meet. It deeply moved me.”
Determined to help, she discussed her ideas with her husband. Initially, her family was sceptical, unsure if she was suited for this field. “But I was clear in my mind. I began working with artisans and started selling my creations on Instagram under the name Rampur ke Gharare. Gradually, orders started coming in. Eventually, my family accepted my new role and extended their full support.”
Shehla recalls that when she began her revival efforts in 2017, she was shocked to find that only one artisan remained. “I informed the administration, and they stepped in to support the craft. Even prison inmates were trained in this skill to help them find employment after release. I also worked towards including it in the One District One Product (ODOP) scheme, and efforts are now underway to secure a GI tag for Rampur gharara.”
Traditionally, the gharara was beyond the reach of common people due to the use of gold and silver threads. “Today, we use alternatives like steel and other metals, making it more affordable. We create bridal wear at reasonable prices, bringing this royal attire to the masses.”
Speaking about her growing reach, she says, “I now have clients across the world. Though my Instagram following is modest, my work has reached nearly 15 million people. I receive orders from across India and abroad. My showroom is in Shaheen Bagh, Okhla, Delhi, and I plan to expand further.”
Her initiative has also generated employment for numerous artisans, helping sustain the craft and their livelihoods.
Explaining the distinction, she notes, “The gharara is more traditional and regal compared to the sharara. Since 2018, ghararas have made a strong comeback in fashion. While designs may be copied, the vision behind them cannot be. My goal is not just business, but to create employment and secure a future for artisans and their children.”
Shehla’s clientele includes several well-known personalities. “Among them are Sana Rehman, Zareen Khan, and Abu Azmi. We have also presented a shawl to Uddhav Thackeray. Our creations are worn across the world, with significant demand from Canada, the United States, Dubai, and London. We also have a large number of Sikh clients. After all, clothing has no religion.”
Shehla credits her mother as her greatest inspiration. “She taught me how to cut and stitch ghararas. Today, I understand the finer nuances of this craft. My family, including my children, has been a constant source of support.
source: http://www.awazthevoice.in / Awaz, The Voice / Home> Stories / by Aasha Khosa / April 29th,2026
A non-violent Muslim superhero in a violent world: In conversation with Falah Faisal, creator of Musalman
In an increasingly polarised media landscape, Musalman has emerged as a work that blends satire, journalism, and modern mythology. Created by Bangalore-based comic book writer and stand-up comic Falah Faisal, the series has now taken a definitive step into print with the launch of its Graphic Novel in March 2026. Published by Yoda Press, the book carries forward a project that began in 2017 and has since grown into a sharp form of political commentary, using humour and cinematic visual storytelling to question dominant narratives and imagine a way forward.
The Musalman Universe, as described on its official website, is a satirical superhero world built around a non-violent, skullcape-wearing hero navigating a nation marked by Islamophobia and everyday absurdities. At its center is Musalman, a cricketer-turned-superhero who chooses reason and dialogue over violence, reframing what heroism looks like.
The world around him expands through a range of disruptive characters: Starwoman, an astronaut fused with the spirit of David Bowie after a space accident, whose connection to Musalman is rooted in childhood; Musalman X, emerging from Chicago and inspired by Malcolm X, who imagines a global network of Muslim superheroes; Begum Badass, a burqa-clad vigilante shaped by personal loss who turns to martial skill and deception in pursuit of justice; and Falahdeen, also known as Harami No. 1, a stoner anti-hero who discovers a genie in his bong and operates as a chaotic, irreverent counterforce within the narrative. Presiding over this world is Taana Shah, the dictatorial ruler of Antim Pradesh, driven by a prophecy that foretells his downfall at Musalman’s hands, making him not just an antagonist, but a figure shaped by fear, control, and the inevitability of fate.
To understand when Musalman stopped being just an idea and became a necessity, Falah Faisal traces its origins back to September 11, 2017. “At the time, it was sporadic, something I returned to occasionally. That urgency only emerged later, during the CAA protests, when the political climate sharpened my awareness of who was suffering, who was being oppressed, and what was at stake. When the protests gave way to lockdown and people were confined indoors, the need for expression only intensified. It was then that Musalman became essential.”
The way he approaches comics cannot be separated from his filmmaking background. Musalman, in his mind, was always a film first. Like Martin Scorsese suggests about cinema, learning comes from watching and absorbing how stories are constructed. For him, comics operate similarly. Each narrative plays out as moving images in his head, broken down frame by frame, with transitions that often feel distinctly cinematic. The question of whether Musalman is a political act is, for him, inseparable from another: it is also a form of journalism. Having studied and practiced journalism, he now sees the comic as an alternative to mainstream avenues that feel increasingly closed. Drawing from Hunter S. Thompson, he treats it as Gonzo Journalism, documenting reality through fiction, where truth can sometimes emerge more sharply than through facts alone. Humour, then, becomes more than a tool; it becomes survival. In a climate where one can feel constantly targeted, laughter functions as a form of resistance. Refusing to take oppressive forces seriously and laughing in their faces is, for him, a form of rebellion.
If there is one thing he refuses to do, it is censor himself. “The work must be put out exactly as I see it, without dilution or fear,” he says. At the same time, he is conscious of the conversations the comic might provoke, especially among those who disagree with it. “Art, for me, should function as a bridge.” Falah’s influences remain foundational. He puts it,“If the character’s beginnings lay in satire or something closer to irreverent humour, they were shaped early on by influences like South Park. Over time, however, the work evolved into something more pointed, a form of political commentary that reacts to the world in real time. It became a way of interpreting reality and imagining a way forward through it. It remains satire, but also, in his words, a vision for a better world. Alan Moore’s Watchmen and V for Vendetta shaped my understanding of flawed heroes and enduring ideas. Early works borrowed from these influences before evolving into something more personal. Drawing on Grant Morrison’s idea that there is no “us and them,” only “us,” I hope readers begin to question what they have been told, particularly by mass media. The contradictions are already there in everyday life; the work simply brings them into focus.”
But can satire still function when reality itself feels absurd? He acknowledges the difficulty. He observes,“Sometimes the fictionalised versions of real figures behave more sensibly in his comics than their real-world counterparts, such as his character Arnab Cowswamy, drawn from the TV anchor whose on-screen histrionics are legendary. In that sense, the comic becomes a way of restoring coherence to an increasingly chaotic reality.” Humour remains central, not just for commentary, but for connection. It softens difficult truths, makes them easier to engage with, and, at a personal level, “helps stay sane”, he says. Yet he is aware that humour can also be risky. Anything that speaks truth to power, especially in a political context, carries consequences. And still, he insists, that risk is necessary.
The Musalman character itself is designed to challenge expectations. He explains, “Musalman is non-violent, choosing humour and dialogue over confrontation. Even his origin complicates identity, as he is revealed to be a descendant of Ram, embodying both Hindu and Muslim lineages. In doing so, the character questions the idea of fixed identities and counters narratives that frame communities as outsiders.” When it comes to building characters, especially in a genre as saturated as superhero fiction, he sees limitations as well as possibilities. Most powers, he believes, have already been explored over the past century, which is why many of his characters are amalgamations of existing archetypes. “Musalman himself carries shades of Superman, but the real innovation lies elsewhere. The villains are not just individuals but representations of systems and ideas. Drawing from mythology and real life ensures they remain complex rather than caricatured. Figures like Taana Shah embody authoritarian ideologies, while characters like Chairman Maose critique corporate entities such as The Walt Disney Company and Marvel Cinematic Universe. Together, they map a world shaped by both political and corporate power,” he adds.
Is Musalman a person or a symbol? “For me, Musalman is an idea, and ideas are bulletproof. Even if the creator were silenced, the character could endure. I imagine him as a beacon, a lighthouse for those who feel alienated, offering a sense of belonging”, says Falah. For Musalman himself, the greatest fear is not defeat but ineffectiveness, the inability to intervene in real-world crises. Falahexplains, “This tension feeds into a larger ambition: the creation of a modern mythology. Influenced by Joseph Campbell and The Hero with a Thousand Faces, I seek to bring together elements from multiple traditions, Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, and Judaism, into a shared narrative. The aim is not to erase differences but to reveal the common ground that already exists between them.” His storytelling process reflects this approach. To him each story is part of a jigsaw puzzle he’s putting together piece by piece, and only he sees the larger picture. Once finished, you’d have to step back to marvel at how it all came together.
Despite its possibilities, he observes that comics are undervalued in India. Yet their strengths, he argues, are unique. As he puts it, “unlike film, comics allow the reader to control time, to linger, revisit, and interpret at their own pace. They also enable expansive storytelling without the constraints of budget.” Even without financial limitations, he would continue working in comics, seeing them as the foundation of visual storytelling.
That visual freedom is realised through his collaboration with his illustrator. The collaboration with his illustrator, Spud, began in November 2019 at a meetup for illustrators and comic writers in Bangalore organised by Sumit Kumar from Bakermax. As introductions went around, he mentioned that he created Musalman, prompting a loud laugh from across the room. Curious, he later sought Spud out and, after seeing his sketchbooks filled with detailed drawings, felt an immediate fit. What followed has been a close collaboration, with Spud’s visual interpretations not only shaping the comic but also pushing the writing to evolve. Over time, the partnership became one of mutual growth.
In the world of Musalman, there’s a character who carries the creator’s name, Falahdeen. For Falah Faisal, Falahdeen operates as a counterpoint to Musalman. If Musalman represents the superego, Falahdeen embodies the id—the space of impulse, desire, and immediate gratification. He draws from his own inner world, shaping the character out of his deepest anxieties and desires, but allowing those instincts to play out more freely. “In the story, he finds a genie and wastes his first two wishes on Everlasting Joints. For the third, he’s given a trial period where he can wish for anything and undo it if he wants. But the genie always gives him the worst possible version of whatever he wishes for. If he becomes a rockstar, his music antagonises the right wing and they come after him. If he legalises weed, it leads to corporate control and manipulation. It’s always the worst version of the desire,” he says, describing the character as one that exists in the tension between impulse and consequence. Over time, however, he adds that he has begun to approach Falahdeen with a certain softness, allowing the character a more compassionate arc.
Audience responses have continually reshaped his understanding of the work. From a nine-year-old who painted a Musalman’s Meem symbol on his T-shirt to meet him, to older readers who have followed the series from the beginning, the range has been unexpected. His work has resonated across generations. This also raises the question of responsibility. “In a deeply polarised world, I hope Musalman can reflect a more inclusive past, one where communities coexisted more fluidly, and offer that vision to younger readers,” he says.
Musalman, for Falah Faisal, remains an ongoing inquiry. When asked about his idea of success, he moves away from conventional metrics. “It is not measured in likes, shares, or sales, but in those rare moments when fiction seems to echo reality, when ideas spill beyond the page and into the world. Success might also take the form of a feature film adaptation or the possibility of influencing real political change. Ultimately, it lies in endurance, in the idea continuing to exist, resonate, and shape the world in small, unexpected ways,” he concludes.
source: http://www.maktoobmedia.com / Maktoob Media / Home> Literature> Bookshelf> Features / by Ashika N / April 09th, 2026
At its core, Muslim History Month is about building an archive, one that reflects the richness and diversity of Muslim experiences across time, space and geography. For me, as an Indian Muslim woman, this work is inseparable from the present moment.
A calligraphic panel installation. Photo courtesy: Karim Jabbar
As an Indian Muslim woman, I had long felt the dissonance of being spoken about rather than being listened to as an equal. In my experience, even in spaces that claimed to centre Muslim issues, Muslim voices, especially those of women, are often sidelined. The authority to narrate our own histories has routinely been denied. This experience is not mine alone.
When I began conversations with my friend and colleague Dr Ashwini K.P., a Dalit woman human rights advocate, and now UN Special Rapporteur on Racism, we quickly recognised the parallels in our experiences. Caste and religion operate differently, but both structure exclusion in similar ways, by determining whose knowledge counts, whose histories are archived, and whose voices are amplified.
Muslim History Month, launched in 2020 by our co-founded organisation, Zariya, emerged from this shared understanding and we celebrate it during the month of Ramadan/Ramzan. It is a community-led initiative that creates space to document, explore, and celebrate the diverse histories, cultures, and contributions of Muslim communities across the world. Through essays, articles and storytelling, it seeks to reclaim narrative authority by centring Muslim voices and highlighting perspectives that are frequently overlooked or misrepresented in mainstream discourse. In recent years, Islamophobia in India has shifted from the margins to the mainstream. It is visible not only in policy debates or organised hate, but also in everyday language, media representation, and cultural production. The repetition of distorted narratives, whether through films like Kerala Story 2 or everyday hate crimes, begin to replace reality. Against this backdrop, the absence of self-represented Muslim narratives becomes more than a gap, it becomes a form of erasure.
Muslim History Month was an attempt to counter this, by shifting the focus from what is said about Muslims to what Muslims say about their own histories, cultures, and lives, globally. The idea of dedicating a month to Muslim histories was inspired by earlier initiatives like Black History Month and Dalit History Month, movements that have long demonstrated the importance of reclaiming histories from erasure and distortion. These efforts remind us that history is not neutral. It is shaped by power, by who gets to record, interpret, and disseminate it. Muslim History Month builds on this legacy by creating a platform where Muslims, alongside allies, reflect on the diversity and complexity of Muslim histories and cultural practices.
One of the most meaningful aspects of this journey has been witnessing how contributors engage with the platform, not just as writers, but as individuals seeking space to reflect. One of our contributors this year, Mai Zarkawi, a Palestinian jewellery designer and visual storyteller, tells me she was inspired to contribute to Muslim History Month because “it creates space to reflect on the depth and diversity of Muslim cultural practices, beyond dominant or simplified narratives.”
The urgency of this work is evident in the dedication of its contributors. Writing from Beirut, Islamic art historian Rima Barakat chose to participate despite being the middle of the ongoing conflict. She reflects that war compels cultural action, noting that, like artists in past world wars, creative expression becomes a way to endure, sustain community, and measure survival through artistic resilience.
Across its three editions, the initiative has evolved in both scope and depth. The first edition brought together reflections on everyday practices and overlooked communities, challenging narrow understandings of what constitutes “history.” Contributions from authors who identified as Pasmanda, Roma, Uyghur and Tsakhur all featured in this edition. The second focused on Muslim women whose contributions have been marginalised or forgotten, seeking to address the gendered erasures that shape historical memory, from Haleema Beevi to Fatima Al-Fihri.
The third edition, which is currently underway, turns to Muslim art and architecture, but in a way that deliberately expands these categories beyond monumental structures or common artistic traditions. Performative arts, art as a means to resistance, light calligraphy, geometry and varied Quranic scripts all form part of this series. Academics, experts and activists in this edition have written about subjects varying from Roghan Art and Islamic Geometry to the importance of Amulets and devotional performative traditions.
The three editions have had contributions from authors from over 15 countries. From Sudan, Egypt and Palestine to India, Nepal, Tunisia and Canada. This global participation is central to the project. Muslims are often treated as a monolithic group in public discourse. Muslim History Month actively resists this by foregrounding differences in language, culture, geography, and lived experience. In the age of AI and tools such as Chat GPT, referencing and footnoting form an important part of these pieces.
This initiative tries to disrupt the idea that history belongs only to grand events or celebrated figures alone. It insists that culture, whether in the form of calligraphy, craft, food, identity, ritual, or storytelling, is central to understanding how communities endure and evolve. For me, this work is inseparable from the present moment. It is shaped by the realities of Islamophobia globally, by the distortions of media and popular culture, and by the urgent need to create alternative spaces of knowledge and expression. But it is also shaped by hope, the belief that by telling our own stories, we can begin to shift how we are seen, understood, and remembered.
As Karim Jabbari, a world renowned Tunisian light and calligraphy artist tells us in his interview, for him, “Calligraphy is the anchor of our history. It is the way our ancestors transmitted knowledge into written form, and it is the link that keeps us grounded. If we understand it, stay faithful to it, and keep our connection with it alive, we are essentially maintaining a living connection with our own history.’
At its core, Muslim History Month is about building an archive, one that reflects the richness and diversity of Muslim experiences across time, space and geography. For me, as an Indian Muslim woman, this work is inseparable from the present moment. It is shaped by the urgency of ensuring that future generations inherit something more than stereotypes about Muslims. We are more than the vengeful, violent, anti national beasts that we are shown to be by the media.
Because beyond the noise of headlines and the weight of propaganda, there exists another set of stories that need to be documented and preserved and this is a humble attempt towards this direction.
Mariya Salim is co-founder of Zariya. She is a human rights activist and an international sexual- and gender-based violence expert based in Delhi.
source: http://www.thewire.in / The Wire / Home> LiveWire / by Mariya Salim / March 19th, 2026
In an innovative educational endeavour that takes place in Chennai, Aalimah students gain exposure to the study of comparative religion through a disciplined approach.
Chennai: A momentous academic occasion took place at Hidhaaya Islamic College for Girls, as third year Aalimah students plunged themselves into researching world religions. As a part of their course curriculum for the fifth semester, the students conducted research about world religions, which culminated in the submission of research papers in the sixth semester.
To begin with, the session started off on a tranquil note with recitation from the Holy Qur’an done by third year Aalimah student Hameera. The session was chaired by Burooj Association President and third year Aalimah student Arshiya. She addressed the participants and Guests with an opening welcome speech.
The presentations were evaluated by distinguished guests including, Dr. K.V.S. Habib Mohammad, eminent scholar of Islam, writer and Shura member of Jamaat-e-Islami Hind (Tamil Nadu) and Mr. Jalaluddin, Correspondent of Good Word Public School and Vice President of JIH Tamil Nadu and chairman Nazeer Ataullah of Hidhaaya Islamic College for girls.
With regard to the study of Sikhism, Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, and Hinduism, five of the students made a commendable effort to understand the beliefs, holy books, and rituals of each religion. Their understanding showed in their thoughtfully prepared PowerPoint presentations. The analysis was enriched by yet another five students who compared the five religions mentioned above with Islam.
The whole exercise was an exemplar in both research and intellectual engagement. The evaluation panel acknowledged the effort of the students and suggested ways to improve the academic methodology and presentation style.
Pointing out the importance of such exercises, Dr. Habib Mohammad described it as a groundbreaking initiative by Hidhaaya Islamic College for Girls. This is truly a commendable and progressive initiative. Stating the necessity of comparative study of religions, he commented:
“Comparative study of various religions is very important to develop a better understanding. It is just the beginning of a long academic journey which needs to be taken further with sincerity and respect.”
He also recommended that students take up specialisation in one religion for greater knowledge and suggested that they should refer to the primary source of any religion to acquire true knowledge. He exhorted students to adopt an open mind with respect and regard for all religious beliefs.
This project represents a milestone effort towards the creation of enlightened and thoughtful women who have a proper understanding of the complexities of a pluralistic world.
In acknowledging the significance of this endeavour, Dr. Habib Mohammad mentioned how much the participants seemed to know about their disciplines, which was evident from their active involvement with the literary and intellectual aspect of religion. He also commented on how this programme reflects the institution’s academic excellence and hints at the future success of graduates.
Likewise, Mr. Jalaluddin appreciated the high calibre of performances and gave useful advice regarding improvements in terms of language skills and presentation techniques.
The event concluded with a warm vote of thanks offered by student Ashiqua, one of the 3rd Aalimah students.
“When knowledge is guided by understanding and compassion, it becomes a force that not only enlightens minds but also unites humanity.”
[Dr. Rabia Basri is Correspondent and Principal of Hidhaaya Islamic College for Girls, Chennai]
source: http://www.radiancenews.com / Radiance News / Home> Latest News> Report / by Dr Rabia Basri / April 29th, 2026
Shahzada Husain Burhanuddin, the youngest son of His Holiness Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin.
Mumbai :
The Dawoodi Bohra community has launched a new online initiative aimed at expanding access to the sacred sciences of the Quran. The newly launched Sawt al-Quran al-Karim YouTube channel presents the recitation of the entire Quran in the voice of Shahzada Husain Burhanuddin, the youngest son of His Holiness Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin. This project forms part of the work of Mahad al-Zahra, an institution dedicated to the study, memorisation and recitation of al-Quran al-Karim.
The channel presents the complete Quran according to the Khalaf ‘an Hamza narration, one of the ten canonical traditions of Quranic recitation preserved through continuous scholarly transmission over centuries. Known for its demanding precision and distinctive phonetic characteristics, this narration remains less widely available in full digital recordings. Its publication online offers students of the Quran a rare opportunity to study and listen to this recitational tradition in its entirety.
Mahad al-Zahra leads the Dawoodi Bohra community’s efforts in Quranic education. The institute was established in 1976 by the late Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin to cultivate excellence in the memorisation and recitation of the Quran. Since 1998, Shahzada Husain Burhanuddin has guided the institution’s development, overseeing programmes that train students in the disciplines of tilawah (recitation) and hifz (memorisation) while maintaining rigorous scholarly standards.
In his role as provost of Aljamea-tus-Saifiyah, the community’s premier educational institute, Shahzada Husain Burhanuddin personally supervises examinations for huffaz (plural of hafiz, are individuals who have memorized the entire Quran), ensuring accuracy and mastery in Quranic memorisation. A distinguished qari himself, he also holds honorary membership in the Naqabat Qurra al-Quran al-Karim in Cairo, regarded as one of the world’s most respected guilds of Quran reciters.
His scholarship in the field of Quranic recitation includes the three-volume work Qiraat Zahira li Kitab Allah, which presents the principles of Quranic readings through structured tables and visual guides. Each page of the publication includes QR codes that connect readers directly to his recitation of the Qiraat ‘Ashr (the ten recognised schools of Quranic recitation, each preserving a unique phonetic tradition from a renowned reciter), allowing students to hear the precise rendering of the recitation rules they study. The work has received certification from Al-Azhar University, widely recognised as a leading authority in the teaching and transmission of Quranic sciences.
The launch of the Sawt al-Quran al-Karim channel reflects the vision of His Holiness Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin to strengthen engagement with the Quran across generations. He has consistently encouraged families within the community to nurture the study of the Quran at home, expressing the hope that every household will include at least one hafiz and that the community will cultivate 100,000 huffaz worldwide.
By presenting authentic recitation through digital platforms, the initiative extends access to students and listeners across continents. Families, scholars and learners can now listen to and study these recitations regardless of location, strengthening their connection with the Quran in daily life.
Murtaza Jafar, a senior member of Mahad al-Zahra, described the initiative as an important step in sharing Quranic knowledge with a wider audience.
“The launch of this channel marks an important moment in our efforts to preserve and share the sacred sciences of the Quran. By publishing the complete Quran in the Khalaf ‘an Hamza narration, we are providing students and listeners around the world with access to a recitational tradition that requires great care and precision.”
He added that the project will continue to expand.
“We plan to add further recordings representing other recognised narrations of Quranic recitation. Work has already begun on recordings in the transmissions of Hafs ‘an Asim, Warsh ‘an Nafi and al-Susi ‘an Abi Amr. Our hope is that these resources will support students of the Quran for generations to come.”
The Sawt al-Quran al-Karim YouTube channel is now available online and offers listeners direct access to the complete recitation.
