Tag Archives: Emperor Humayun

Immortal grace

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The Thin Edge | Revisiting the restored, resplendent Humayun’s tomb

Humayun’s tomb / File picture

I have visited Humayun’s tomb several times, seeing it transform from its earlier decrepitude to the beautiful, sensitively restored monument-space it is today.

The tomb was one of my favourite old buildings even before the restoration — something about its clean lines, its proportions that manage to effortlessly mix intimacy with graceful grandeur, the restrained colour scheme of red sandstone interrupted by sparely deployed white marble, all of it has always nourished me more than the overwhelming, in-your-face beauty of many other Indian mausoleums and temples.

With the restoration now complete, the tomb itself and the ancillary buildings have also been given a context of green, well-tended gardens, which allow the other venerable monuments on the site — the trees and foliage — their own presence, their own visual Kabuki with the man-made masonry.

Recently, I went to see the tomb again, but this time with architect friends who were visiting the city. Like me, this couple had also visited earlier but they had not seen the finished restoration. Walking around the space with two pairs of somewhat differently-trained eyes was a lesson. Things I’d never noticed were pointed out: the exact alignment between the succeeding gateways; the ‘reveal’ as you cross the final threshold and can actually see the whole structure; and how different it was from what happens at, say, the Taj Mahal.

One of the friends spoke about how the white dome interacts with the sky, glowing sharply in the chiaroscuro of dawn and dusk, almost disappearing in muted top light, coming back into round vividity against dark clouds. Examined minutely were the almost invisible rain channels worked into the stone as well as the slope of the platform to coax away the monsoon water, none of which I’d noticed before. Explained was the way the sandstone slabs were placed with minimum mortar and the fact that they fronted a stuffing of lime and stone rubble.

To the east of the tomb stretched a tumult of trees, almost hiding the nearby gurdwara, with the railway line faint in the distance, while the north side had the view of the attendant water aqueducts and the lines of the water channels that must have inspired Louis Kahn and Luis Barragán in their design of the Salk Institute in California.  

The spring morning light changed around us as groups of youngsters pranced up and down the stairs and sashayed across the flagstone, moving in unspoken group-selfie choreography, freezing from time to time without tangible signal into Instagram-mudras. Inside the shadowy central chamber, boisterous groups of young men yelled and blew klaxon whistles, bathing in the amazing acoustics before guards chased them away. On the grounds, on the benches under the quartet of pilkhan trees, a couple sat in chaste-canoodle mode while schoolgirls prowled around politely, looking for victims to interview for their class assignment. The austere beauty of the building, the lush, basant authority of the trees and the celebratory clusters of young people together made a whole that transcended architecture, arbour and holiday ardour.    

The friends I accompanied are part of a loose movement of Indian architects drawing notice and accolades because of their alternative approach to building for our times.

This approach is defined by several things; a deep study of local grammar and traditions that inform any new design; a rigorous examination of the environmental impact of any new building, with innovative solutions to cooling and energy consumption becoming central to a project from the very beginning of conceptualization; an aim for genuine, non-grandiose beauty in the final design, all of this entirely subservient to who will use the building and how they will experience it in daily use. This movement is not confined just to India or to the subcontinent. A few days after my friends’ visit, came the welcome news that Diébédo Francis Kéré of Burkina Faso and Germany had won the Pritzker Prize, the most prestigious international recognition for architectural work.

This is not the place to detail Kéré’s work but what is important to note is that the architect has consistently built across some of the most deprived areas of Africa, working with local people, using the simplest local materials in the most inventive ways to produce buildings and projects which pair stunning design with amazing utility. Thus, a local school building may be made from compacted clay, with its ceiling and walls designed to cool the classrooms without any air-conditioning or glass cladding; a lighting scheme in another building may involve embedding into a ceiling traditional pots sliced into half; a Parliament building for Benin may echo a palaver tree under which people traditionally gather for meetings, while a proposed Parliament for Burkina Faso may be in the form of a ziggurat where the assembly is underground below a terraced public park, where the people are literally above the legislators. “I want people to take ownership over the parliament building,” Kéré has said and in that one sentence perhaps lies the core of his philosophy.

A few minutes drive from Humayun’s tomb brings you to the tin-sheet canyons that enclose the biggest heist of urban commons in the history of independent India. Here, at the Central Vista, the most pompously authoritarian, most ecologically damaging, most backward-looking glass and concrete office blocks, the prime minister’s mansion and the fortress-like new Parliament building are being constructed for a huge amount of public money at a time of grim scarcity. This area, for decades one of the few places where even the poorest of the city could walk in greenery, will now become a high-security showpiece for the bloated egos of those in power. In a city full of beautiful mausoleums, these future tombs for those ruling over us today will not stand any test or comparison. But meanwhile, whether in Kutch or Koudougou, in Dakar or Dhaka, human ingenuity, generosity and aesthetic grace will continue to produce architecture that re-affirms life and joy.

source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph Online / by Ruchir Joshi / March 22nd, 2022

Author Ira Mukhoty’s peek into the Mughal household

NEW DELHI :

Of History and Gastronomy: Ira Mukhoty at Jaypee Vasant Continental’s Paatra restaurant in New Delhi | Photo Credit: SHIV KUMAR PUSHPAKAR
Of History and Gastronomy: Ira Mukhoty at Jaypee Vasant Continental’s Paatra restaurant in New Delhi | Photo Credit: SHIV KUMAR PUSHPAKAR

From the resilience of Khanzada Begum to the food habits of Akbar, author Ira Mukhoty reveals many Mughal secrets over a lavish vegetarian meal

Those who suffer from colonial hangover or know their Mughals through movies have an exotic notion about the haramam or harem – a place where many women were housed to please the most important man in the empire. Author Ira Mukhoty, who scans history and mythology to find the status of women in India, counters the perception through a well-argued book, “Daughters Of The Sun” (Aleph). “This idea of ‘oriental harem’ came through the British historians because they had a long association with Islam right from the times of crusades. For them, the Mughals, the Sultans and the Tughlaqs were all the same – part of one Islamic marauding entity. The idea was completely false.”

The whole harem space, she says, evolved from the time of Babur, who wanted his women to be well-educated and was pragmatic about women who ‘fell’ to an enemy. “Over a period of time, when Mughals absorbed some elements of Rajput culture, it became a little different but even then it was completely alien to the oriental idea of a sexual space. Most of these women were in no way sexually available to the Padshah. The harem had relatives, other noble men’s wives; there were servants and attendants…there was a huge collection of women but not to please the emperor,” says Ira, as we settle for an elaborate lunch at Jaypee Vasant Continental’s Paatra restaurant.

The catalyst came from Ira’s previous book, Heroines, where she wrote about powerful women in myth and history. “One of them was Jahanara Begum. I was interested in finding more women like her associated with the Mughal empire.” She found many. But the one story that is most compelling is that of Khanzada Begam, the sister of Babur, whom he left behind with Shaybani Khan as war conquest when he escaped from Samarkand. She remained with Khan for ten years but remained true to her brother’s cause. And when she eventually returned to Babur’s household, her sacrifice and resilience was celebrated. “In fact, she went on to be anointed Padshah Begum of Hindustan during Humayun’s reign,” says Ira.

Powerful women

Women are a neglected lot in our history. Ira says this is not specific to our country. “Around the world, women stories are neglected to a smaller space – it is not just about Mughals or India. You first talk about the kings and and rajas. Women were treated like wallpapers. It is not that I have found something special here. The resources have been there but they have seldom been used to join the dots. For instance, Gulbadan Begum’s biography of her father Babur and brother Humayun was translated from Persian into English in 1907.” She reminds how Jahanara Begum wrote about her Sufi masters in two books. “Her lines are very powerful and erotically charged for Sufis believe in erotic love as means for union with the divine. A 17th Century Muslim woman writing such a powerful language is extraordinary.” Ira has tried to find out first hand information about these women who engaged in diplomacy and patronised the arts. “ I have written about Mughal women who were highly educated, who advised emperors and traded with foreigners. Babur saw them as symbols of Timur legacy. He wanted them to engage in verbal repartees and write poetry.”

Ira says her study of royal firmans reveal that Jahanara Begum asked for permission to go for Haj but it was denied. “Years before her, Gulbadan Begum had made the famous journey that lasted seven years. But by the time of Jahanara, royal women were not encouraged to take this hazardous journey. But she did make a request. I looked at the date and it was one month after her sister Roshanara Begum had died. I wondered that did something come over her.” It is her ability to join these dots that makes Ira’s work much more engaging and accessible than academic works by the likes of Prof Ruby Lal, whom Ira has extensively quoted.

“I try to find a thread between these stories to make fully-rounded characters. With women’s stories you get that sense. However, I tell the reader where I am not sure and am talking about possibilities.” Ira, who studied Immunology in Cambridge University, says her science background has always helped her in research. “It gives me patience. History brings subtlety and nuances which interest me much more. Science is no good for that,” she chuckles. Having said that, she doesn’t believe in speculating. “You should tell the reader where you are not sure even if it breaks the rhythm of the story. If I say it could have happened, I expect the reader to make his own mind.”

A vegetarian these days, Ira undertook ‘walks’ to the Walled City to understand the fragrances and the language of the time gone by. “They might not help you with facts, but they definitely help in writing about a past whose remains are very much part of our ecosystem.” As she appreciates the lavish spread at Paatra, she remembers the meal she had at the Nizamuddin dargah.

Introduction to ghee

Ira hasn’t written much about the Mughal kitchen but she has mentioned some instances which give us an idea of what was cooking. For instance, she captures Humayun’s exile in Persia with Hamida Banu Begum after the embarrassing defeat to Sher Shah Suri. “At one point they were actually cooking horsemeat to survive. But when they went to Persia, they were greeted as kings. Suddenly, the meal changed from fibrous, overcooked horsemeat to the amazing food that the Shah would offer them. When they were leaving, Shah Tahmasp wanted a banquet in Hindustani fashion prepared by his guests. What he liked the most was something called dal khuske which was like matar ka pulao. He tasted ghee for the first time as Persians used to cook in fat.”

Over the years, Mughal food became more and more refined. “There came a time when hens were massaged so that the chicken would be soft and tender. Akbar was a frugal eater who used to have just one meal a day but the time for it was not fixed. At any given time around 100 dishes were kept almost ready for him so that they could be served to the emperor at a short notice.”

Ira, who is now working on a biography of Akbar, says the emperor turned vegetarian under the influence of his Rajput wives. “Luckily for us, we have the Akbar’s biography of Bada’uni. He was a conservative person and his account is not glowing with praise like that of Abu’l-Fazl’s. He could not do what Akbar expected of him. He wrote the biography in secret and it was published during Jahangir’s rule. It is fascinating because it tells truthful things about Akbar. He writes that Akbar is so influenced by his Rajput wives that he gave up meat and indulged in Hindu rituals.” Similarly, she says, Gulbadan Begum’s account is very honest in comparison to a male biographer because she is not looking for building an image for posterity. “She writes very candidly like she explains why Humayun was very angry one day. He believed in astrology and always made the journey when the stars were in right alignment. One day he told the women in harem that they would go on an expedition at such and such time. Unfortunately, his new wife fell off the horse. It took her some time to get back. He got furious. He said he would need some opium to calm down. A male biographer would not have put all this but Gulbadan mentions all these intimate details so that we would know the man not just as a king and a conqueror but also as a father, a husband and a son.”

Ira has emerged at a time when Akbar’s legacy is being questioned and anecdotal history is gaining currency in mainstream discourse. She says hers is not a political book. “I am not trying to push any agenda. However, in this atmosphere, it is not unimportant to hear these stories also to clear many of the prejudices that we may have had. When things remain in anecdotal form, it is easy to manipulate them.”

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Anuj Kumar / August 31st, 2018