KERALA :
A new book sheds light on the ‘Malabar Revolt’ in a region which had a history of Muslims and Hindus collaboratively persevering in their resistance against colonial forces. Other books explore its links to the Khilafat movement and why it is more than a peasant uprising.
Moplah prisoners go on trial in Calicut | Photo Credit: Getty Images
Growing up in Delhi, one had only a limited idea about the resistance movement in the Malabar region. The popular history books tended to treat it at best as a little outpost of the freedom movement. Noted historian Bipan Chandra in India’s Struggle for Independence (Penguin) dubbed it as a peasant movement.
“In August 1921, peasant discontent erupted in the Malabar district of Kerala. Here, Mappila tenants rebelled. Their grievances related to lack of any security of tenure, renewal fees, high rents…the impetus for resistance had first come from the Malabar District Congress Conference at Manjeri in April 1920,” Chandra writes. Sumit Sarkar too, confined himself to calling it an “anti-landlord revolt” in his book, Modern India (1885-1947), published by Pearson. There have been noises about the association with the Khilafat movement in academic circles, though. Just as there are historians who see it merely from a communal prism. A holistic picture had failed to emerge.
Enlightening exploration
Some belated but well-deserved attention on the resistance movement has come courtesy Abbas Panakkal’s Musaliar King: Decolonial Historiography of Malabar’s Resistance (Bloomsbury). Starting off as an exploratory exercise on the 75th anniversary of the movement, Panakkal’s venture transforms into an enlightening journey.
Early in the book, the author writes, “The socio-geographical landscape of our community underwent profound transformations in the wake of the cataclysmic events of 1921-22. This epoch witnessed a staggering loss of lives, the forced displacement of families… The old mosque of Tirurangadi emerged as a veritable repository of memories and narratives, a historical bastion of ideological resistance against the British colonial apparatus.” Fittingly, it was on the commemoration of the 75th anniversary of the 1921 resistance that Panakkal started his exploration, speaking to the family members of those directly involved.
Among them was Muhammed Ali Musaliar, grandson of Ali Musaliar, a luminary of the 1921 struggle. The British referred to Ali Musaliar as a king; the locals regarded him as a community and spiritual leader, calling him Musaliar Uppapa. Indeed, if Musaliar was a ‘king’, Malabar was his ‘kingdom’.
Incidentally, the term Malabar is derived from the vernacular Mala, signifying hill, and the affix originating from the Arabic word barr, which means the source of all goodness. The region had a long tradition of anti-colonial resistance dating back to the 16th century. “Muslims and Hindus collaboratively persevered in their resistance against colonial forces,” writes Panakkal.
This strong anti-colonial stance had unforeseen consequences. The British, with not a little help from some Indian officials, sought to undermine the movement. Among them was C. Gopalan Nair, Malabar district deputy collector, who “unabashedly deployed his literary prowess in favour of the British cause”. Observes Panakkal: “The usage of terms such as Malabar Revolt and Moplah Rebellion to delineate these struggles is emblematic of this issue. Revolt itself is a term crafted by colonial administration, characterising violent actions against a recognised government or ruler.”
‘Peaceful coexistence’
There were others, though, whose hearts beat for the locals, luminaries who either linked the resistance to the Khilafat movement or, in isolation, read it as an agrarian struggle. Among them were Saumyendranath Tagore, who regarded it as “an organic and spontaneous ‘uprising’ of the Malabar peasantry against British imperial rule” and E.M.S. Namboodiripad, who too “didn’t discount the role played by agrarian discontent”. There was a common thread: the oppression and exploitation meted out by colonial officials and landlords was no less severe upon the Hindu peasants as they were on their Muslim counterparts. Writes Panakkal, “The Malabar narrative heralded a rare phenomenon: the harmonious convergence of Hindus and Muslims. This coalition was underpinned by a shared objective — to oust the oppressor — and a collective aspiration for a peaceful coexistence in the region.”
It is something with which even R.N. Hitchcock, police superintendent of Malabar, agreed. As written by N.P. Chekkutty in Mappila and Comrades: A Century of Communist-Muslim Relations (Other Books). “Hitchcock also reveals that Hindus were involved in the rebellion, at least in some parts of the affected areas. ‘The Hindus took an active part only in the extreme south-eastern area of the Valluvanad taluk and in small numbers for a concise time. They were then responsible for much property damage’.” In his persuasively argued book, with much of the focus on the post-resistance time in the late 1930s and 40s, Chekkutty also talks of the rebels not harming any substantial section of the local population before going on to document the failure of the Congress to retain local Muslim support after the resistance movement. It was a vacuum which both the Communist Party of India and the All India Muslim League attempted to fill.
The Khilafat angle
Interestingly, against this background of common cause transcending the confines of faith came the pan-Islamist Khilafat movement. Things became even more ironic as Malabar’s historical tapestry of anti-colonial resistance “had been woven with threads of unity binding Muslims and non-Muslims in a shared ‘jihad’ to safeguard the throne of the Hindu king, the Zamorin of Calicut,” as analysed by Panakkal. Khilafat, Non-Cooperation, Mappila, with seemingly disparate social elements, all fused to bring about a strong anti-colonial movement.
Indeed, here both the communities enjoyed a rare camaraderie, and there was a happy collective involvement even in religiously significant events like the nercha and utsavam. During the latter, Muslim families returned with bags full of jaggery candies, much like Ali Musaliar used to do for Amina, his daughter. Sums up Panakkal: “The experience of Muslims and Islam in South India is different from the experience in North India, and this is not trivial.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Books> Bibliography / by Ziya Us Salam / September 18th, 2025
