Category Archives: Books (incl.Biographies – w.e.f.01 jan 2018 )

The remarkable Begums who defied patriarchal norms to rule Bhopal for more than a century

Bhopal, MADHYA PRADESH :

These women embodied feminism long before it became a part of the zeitgeist.

ShahJahanBegumOrigMPOs06jun2019

The heiress apparent to the throne of Bhopal, Abida Sultan, wore her hair short, played the saxophone, had her own band, sped around in a Daimler, and when her husband announced that he’ll assume custody of their son, threatened to kill him with the pistol she kept in her pocket. All the while, she remained pious and committed to Islam.

Abida Sultan’s autobiography, Memoirs of a Rebel Princess, was unabashed and far from removed from the stereotypical picture of an oppressed Muslim woman. In the book, she wrote frankly about her conjugal life and her inability to be the good, dutiful wife. But could one expect any less from the child of a feminist royal lineage?

This matrilineal reign, which began in 1819, lasted more than a hundred years, with the lone interruption in 1926, when Sultan Jahan Begum abdicated in favour of Nawab Hamidullah Khan. Hamidullah Khan’s daughter Abida Sultan was to succeed to the throne, but when she chose to leave for Pakistan after the Partition of India, her younger sister Sajida became the Begum of Bhopal.

Sajida Sultan. — Unknown/Wikimedia Commons
Sajida Sultan. — Unknown/Wikimedia Commons

Unlike the Queen-Regent of Travancore, whose brief radical rule ran only till her son came of age, these women ruled for unexpectedly long periods, facilitated by the absence or death of male contenders to the throne, and through sheer grit. A photograph taken in 1872 of Nawab Shah Jahan Begum, Abida Begum’s great-grandmother, shows a booted woman staring straight at the camera, much in the manner of a Vogue cover shoot. The Begums of Bhopal practised feminism much before it gained prominence. They were interesting, headstrong and opinionated, but their wars weren’t fought on the battlefield.

Archival records are filled with the Begums exhibiting their commitment to Islam: donating money to build a mosque in Basra, Iraq, funding the Muslim University at Aligarh, and opening a school for girls in Delhi in the early 1920s. At the time, it was unusual to have a ruler devote time and money to women’s education — even a progressive thinker like Syed Ahmad Khan was focused on Muslim men getting Western education — but to do so outside their state was truly remarkable. So much so that when Lord Edwin Montagu, the British Secretary of State for India, met Begum Sultan Jahan in 1917, he noted in his diary that she was “frightfully keen on education, and jabbered about nothing else”.

Sultan Jahan Begum. — Wikimedia Commons
Sultan Jahan Begum. — Wikimedia Commons

Fringes of history

Women and their assumption of political power have always been sidelined in Islamic history, though there is reason to believe that Aisha, the Prophet’s wife, had a role to play in the establishment of the first Islamic state. Razia Sultana’s brief reign as the Sultanah of Delhi in the 1200s and her killing demonstrated the near impossibility and legitimacy of a Muslim women ruler.

Nothing changed over the centuries. Though it was a young woman, Queen Victoria, who reigned over the hundreds of Indian monarchs at the start of the Paramountcy, assuring them gently of their territorial sovereignty, this mattered little in India. Indian monarchies have been patrilineal and patriarchal, guarding the male and natural right to ascend the throne.

Against this background, to have four Muslim women successively rule a state is unprecedented in world history. But what makes it all the more remarkable is that these women administered a state dominated by feudal warlords accustomed to male privilege over the throne.

The modern city of Bhopal was founded in the early 18th century by Dost Mohammad Khan, an Orakzai Pathan from Afghanistan, and it soon became the second-most important Muslim princely state after Hyderabad. Its geographical location — in Central India — was vital for the suppression of the 1858 War of Independence.

Dost Mohammad Khan. — Wikimedia Commons
Dost Mohammad Khan. — Wikimedia Commons

In North India, there were several Muslim princely states — such as Bahawalpur, Mahmudabad, Tonk, Pataudi and Rampur — which were supported by the British under the Paramountcy. Under this policy, while nearly 500 princely states were autonomous and maintained internal sovereignty, their foreign policy and right to wage wars was controlled by the British.

The reign of the Begums began in Bhopal in 1819, when the ruling Nawab, Mohammad Khan, died without an heir and the British decided to crown his young wife Qudsia till her daughter Sikandar came of age. Sikandar Begum’s husband too died in 1844, and she proved to be a competent ruler and a worthy ally to the British, playing a vital role in the First War of Independence in 1857-1858. This compelled the British to make a provision that the Begum was a sovereign in her own right. Three years later, in 1861, she was invested with the Exalted Order of the Star of India, making her, at the time, the only female knight in the British Empire besides Queen Victoria. She was succeeded by her daughter Shah Jahan Begum and then by Sultan Jahan Begum.

Sultan Jahan Begum went on to have a 25-year-long reign, marked by a commitment to progress, education and women’s health reforms. She was the last Begum of Bhopal as the heiress apparent, Abida Sultan, abdicated the throne in 1948.

Sikandar Begum. — Louis Rousselet/Wikimedia Commons
Sikandar Begum. — Louis Rousselet/Wikimedia Commons

‘Magical island’

The first and foremost among them, Qudsia Begum, set the template of the ideal ruler. Spartan, and shunning jewellery, she refused to take loans and made sure that any money spent would be solely for education and philanthropy. As the British agent Lancelot Wilkinson in Bhopal noted: “She rides and walks about in public, and betrays her determination to maintain herself in power by learning the use of the spear and other manly accomplishments. At times she became quite frantic; and as one of the soldiers observed, more terrible to approach than a tigress.”

This “magical island”, as at least one commentator called it, was as rare as it was difficult to create. Like all figures of power, the Begums too attracted people who wanted to manipulate them — and in their case, this meant both the British and the ruling clan.

Qudsia Begum and her daughter, early inheritors of an uneasy throne, responded to the tugs and pulls by quickly learning traditional masculine skills like fencing and hunting. Shah Jahan Begum embraced the Purdah, asserting notions of orthodox Islamic femininity. She withdrew from public life into strict seclusion and refused to meet the British Viceroy in 1875. Her daughter would later recount in her autobiography that “even as a young girl, she preferred to meet with other girls of her age to discuss ‘a thousand little points of household duties and of domestic management than to perform outdoor activities’.” None of this though got in the way of being a good ruler, and she proved that a veiled woman could rule as competently as anybody else.

Shah Jahan Begum. — Louis Rousselet/Wikimedia Commons
Shah Jahan Begum. — Louis Rousselet/Wikimedia Commons

Balance of power

The Begums carefully navigated the multiple demands of power by ingeniously playing around with tradition and modernity. They would sometimes opt to let go of the burkha and at times wear it to demonstrate a different modernity. In their writings, the Begums constantly acknowledged their mothers and grandmothers, paying obeisance to the strong women who shaped their lives and characters.

Their commitment to austerity and Islam set them apart from the wasted royal lives that were given to overindulgence and dissipation. They constantly drew upon the Quran and respected Islamic scholars, reinforcing the idea that Islam speaks of equity between the sexes. Their spartan lives struck Mahatma Gandhi too, when he visited the state in the late 1920s, on invitation. He was suspicious that the Begum’s cotton clothes and thin mattress had been “put on as a show”, till his travelling companion Sarojini Naidu assured him otherwise.

The Begums of Bhopal, who styled themselves as “Nawab Begums”, were radical and unconventional (the term ‘Nawab Begum’ itself was ingenious as there is no word for queen in the Islamic political imagination). Nonetheless, with consummate ease and success, they proved they were no less. Keeping in line with the Islamic tradition of maintaining a diary, like the founder of their state used to, the Begums invested much energy in maintaining records — of the state and of themselves.

Sultan Jahan Begum. — The Graphic/Wikimedia Commons
Sultan Jahan Begum. — The Graphic/Wikimedia Commons

Shah Jahan Begum, the third in the line, established a History Office, along with a system for retrieving and maintaining records of important characters in her family. Abida Sultan’s son, Shahryar Khan, a former career diplomat in Pakistan, has carried on this family tradition by writing an authoritative account of the dynasty, The Begums of Bhopal.

Like a host of other wealthy Muslim ashraf women, the Begums travelled to Europe and to West Asia as part of the obligatory hajj. And despite the seriousness of the occasion, they never failed to display flashes of their chutzpah. There are anecdotes of Sikandar Begum not disembarking from the ship to Europe without her bottles of pickle. And upon reaching London, she mistakenly wore a dressing gown to meet King George V and Queen Mary, a realisation made only owing to the headlines in the newspapers the next morning.

Many princesses have ascended to power in democratic India by contesting and winning parliamentary elections. The Begums of Bhopal, however, are remarkable for sustaining a determined succession of women monarchs, despite hostility to their gender ruling — the very first Begum, Qudsia, had declared that her infant daughter would succeed after her. Despite the religious and political odds against them, their reign was marked by benevolence and modernity, a radical openness to change, like women’s education and medicine, while maintaining a steadfast commitment to the tenets of Islam. The Begums are icons for women, Muslim or otherwise.


This piece was originally published on Scroll and has been reproduced with permission.

source: http://www.dawn.com / Dawn / Home> Prism / by Priya Mirza / June 04th, 2019

‘Siyasi Muslims’-a book on ‘story of Political Islam in India’ by Hilal Ahmed released

NEW DELHI :

The book releasing ceremony was attended by a large number of the intelligentsia, academics, scribes, and others.

Mr. AK Khan and Prof Faizan Mustafa holding the book following its release by Mr. Khan at Lamakaan, Banjara Hills. Author of the book Dr. Hilal Ahmed looks on.
Mr. AK Khan and Prof Faizan Mustafa holding the book following its release by Mr. Khan at Lamakaan, Banjara Hills. Author of the book Dr. Hilal Ahmed looks on.

Hyderabad :

Mr. AK. Khan, advisor to the Telangana State government on Minority Affairs, released a book, Siyasi Muslims, on Thursday evening at Lamakaan, Banjara Hills, Hyderabad.

The book written by Hilal Ahmed is ‘a story of Political Islam in India.’ It is published by Penguin India.

SiyasiMuslims02MPOs30may2019Prof M Faizan Mustafa, an eminent jurist and Vice Chancellor of NALSAR, reviewed the book describing it as an important read in changing political and economic scenarios in India.

According to the author, “The book answers questions on political Islam; nationalist Islam; Good Muslim vs Bad Muslim, etc.

The other pertinent questions asked by Hilal Ahmed, Associate Professor at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (CSDS), New Delhi, include, “How do we make sense of the Muslims in India? Do they form a political community? Does the imagine conflict between Islam and modernity affect the Muslims’ political behavior in the country? Are the Muslim religious institutions—mosques and madrassas directly involved in politics? Do they instruct the community to vote strategically in all elections? What are Muslim issues? And finally, are Muslims in India truly nationalists?”

The book releasing ceremony was attended by a large number of the intelligentsia, academics, scribes, and others.

source: http://www.siasat.com / The Siasat Daily / Home> Hyderabad> News / by Safoora / May 03rd, 2019

A forgotten heirloom

TAMIL NADU :

An Arwi manuscript. Photo: Special Arrangement/The Hindu
An Arwi manuscript. Photo: Special Arrangement/The Hindu

Tracing the roots of Arabu-Tamil, a link-language that evolved to facilitate communication between Arab settlers and Tamil Muslims

A hush falls over the room when Ammaji Akka starts reading out from the yellowing pages of a textbook called Simt-us-Sibyan (Pearls of Wisdom for the Young). Her voice may quaver, but her fingers glide surely on the modified Arabic alphabet that expresses ideas in Tamil.

The Salem-based septuagenarian is among a dwindling number of people who know Arabu-Tamil (or Lisan al-Arwi), the link-language that texts like Simt-us-Sibyan are written in. A language that evolved to facilitate communication between Arab settlers and the Tamil Muslims in southern India and Sri Lanka, Arwi was in active use from the 8th century up to 19th century.

A former Ustad Bi, or female teacher of Islamic scriptures, Ammaji Akka used to visit Tamil Muslim families at home to tutor adolescent girls and women in how to recite the Holy Quran in Arabic.

Simt-us-Sibyan (written by Maulana Mohamed Yusuf al-Hanafi al-Qadiri) was a learning tool in religious studies; and for many Tamil Muslim children up to the 1970s, used to be a part of Quran recitation classes.

Ammaji Akka, a former Ustad Bi or teacher of Islamic scriptures, reads an Arabu-Tamil booklet at her home in Salem. Photo: Special Arrangement/The Hindu
Ammaji Akka, a former Ustad Bi or teacher of Islamic scriptures, reads an Arabu-Tamil booklet at her home in Salem. Photo: Special Arrangement/The Hindu

“I have four Arabu-Tamil books — Noor Nama (an account of Prophet Muhammad’s life), Simt-us-SibyanYa Sayed Maalai (songs in praise of the Prophet) and Penn Buththi Maalai (advice for Muslim women). Though nobody wants to learn Arabu-Tamil anymore, I still read these books out loud after the evening (Maghrib) prayer, because I believe they will bring good fortune to the neighbourhood,” says Ammaji Akka.

Linguistic influence

The impact of Arabs on the Indian subcontinent is most evident in its languages; and Arabu-Tamil is just one of the several hybrid tongues that were once prevalent here.

“The vocabulary and certain grammatical features of indigenous languages like Hindi, Punjabi, Bengali and Sindhi have been affected by Arabic,” says KMA Ahamed Zubair, assistant professor, Department of Arabic, New College, Chennai, who has written four books on Arabu-Tamil. “Some of the languages along the western and southern coasts of India even adapted the Arabic script, as evident in Sindhi, Arabu-Tamil, Gujarati, Arabu-Malayalam, Arabu-Telugu and Arabu-Bengali.

“According to catalogues maintained in the Madras Archives Library, there are 3000 Arabu-Tamil books dating from 1890-1915, on a variety of subjects,” says Zubair. While the Arabu-Tamil texts still in use seem to be primarily religious in nature, the language had covered general topics like sports, astronomy, horticulture, medicine, and children’s literature, among others, when it was in common usage. On most social occasions, such as weddings, invitations would be issued in Arabu-Tamil.

“The Bible was translated in Arwi. There are four Arwi dictionaries published in the 1930s. Magazines in the language were printed in Ceylon and Rangoon since the 1870s,” says Zubair.

Dr KMA Ahmed Zubair of New College, Chennai, with books on Arabu-Tamil. Photo: R. Ravindran/The Hindu
Dr KMA Ahmed Zubair of New College, Chennai, with books on Arabu-Tamil. Photo: R. Ravindran/The Hindu

Literacy drive

Arabu-Tamil spurred a major literacy drive in the Tamil Muslim community in pre-independence India, with women especially using the language to play vital roles in education, medicine and even politics.

“In those days, Tamil Muslims were invariably taught Arabic, not Tamil,” says J Raja Mohamed, former curator of Pudukottai Government Museum, who has chronicled the use of the language in his book Maritime History of the Coromandel Muslims (A Socio-Historical Study on the Tamil Muslims 1750-1900). “In conservative families, women were educated in Arabu-Tamil rather than Western languages. Many people still have archive files of personal correspondence and bookkeeping ledgers in Arabu-Tamil. Most of the Islamic folkloric traditions such as prayer songs and hymns in praise of the Prophet were recorded in this language.”

Tamil Muslim merchants were the descendants of Arab maritime traders who had settled down in the coastal areas of southern India. The power of this mercantile community declined in the early 20th century due to stiff competition from the British and the reluctance of the Tamil Muslims to adopt new shipping technology and modern education.

After independence, Arabu-Tamil started losing out to the predominance of English in nearly every sphere of life, and has become an heirloom language that only a few can remember. Seminaries in Kayalpattinam and Kilakkarai are among the places where rare Arwi manuscripts can be found. With qualified calligraphers of Arwi no longer available, most printers have stopped publishing Arabu-Tamil books.

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How it works
  • The Arwi alphabet consists of 40 letters, out of which 28 are from Arabic, and 12 are devised by adding diacritical marks that allow Arabic letters to express sounds particular to Tamil.
  • Common loan words from Arabic that are still in use in Tamil:
  • Abattu (danger, from the Arabic root Aafat)
  • Baaki (remaining, from Arabic root Baaqi)
  • Jilla (district/zone, from Arabic root Zill’a, one side of a triangle)
  • Wasool (levying/collection, from the Arabic root Wusool, arrival

_______________________________________

Need for revival

It is ironic that while Arabic is taught at graduate level in several colleges across the State, Arabu-Tamil doesn’t get much attention, except in a few madrassas (religious schools).

“Arwi works should be introduced as Open Educational Resources (OER) content to reach Tamil Muslims and the diaspora living in Malaysia, Singapore, Myanmar and Bangladesh,” says Zubair, who has devised Unicode substitutes for four Arwi characters in a research paper.

There are others who are hoping to revive interest in the language among young people. E Mohamed Ali, a former telecom employee based in Tiruchi, learned Arwi in his childhood through the devotional songs taught by his mother.

He is currently transliterating into Tamil, the Arwi song anthologies Tohfat-ul-Atfal and Minhat-ul-Atfal written by noted Sri Lankan Islamic scholar Syed Mohamed Alimsa for a local magazine, and is also planning to release an audio CD of the same with young singers.

“Arabu-Tamil enriched not just Arabic, but also Tamil, in many ways. Notable poets and writers of the coastal districts have written extensively in this language. Bringing it back would be a rewarding experience for the coming generations,” says Ali.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Nahla Nainar / May 24th, 2019

Jahanara Begum: The Forgotten Mughal Princess Who Designed Chandni Chowk

DELHI :

She was one of the most powerful women of medieval India, a Mughal princess like no other. And yet, her extraordinary story remains lost in the pages of history.

In an unassuming part of India’s capital city, amidst winding alleys lined with attar and chadar sellers, lies the 800-year-old dargah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Auliya—one of the most revered saints in Sufism. From dusk to dawn, thousands of devotees throng this bustling complex to pay their respects.

Yet, few know that Delhi’s most famous Sufi shrine is also home to the tomb of one of the most powerful women of medieval India, Jahanara Begum.

A writer, poet, painter and the architect of Delhi’s famous Chandni Chowk, Jahanara was a Mughal princess like no other.

Portraits of Jahanara Begum. Source: Wikimedia Commons
Portraits of Jahanara Begum. Source: Wikimedia Commons

This is her story.

The eldest child of Emperor Shah Jahan and his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal, Jahanara was born in Ajmer in 1614. Growing up in one of the richest and most splendid empires in the world, the young princess spent her childhood in opulent palaces, humming with family feuds, battle intrigues, royal bequests and harem politics.

As such, she was well-versed in statecraft by the time she was a teenager.

Soon after, Jahanara was appointed Begum Sahib (Princess of Princesses) by her doting parents. She would often spend her evenings playing chess with Shah Jahan, understanding the workings of the royal household, and helping her father plan the reconstruction of other palaces.

As French traveller and physician François Bernier writes in his memoirs, Travels in the Mogul Empire  ,

“Shah Jahan reposed unbounded confidence in his favourite child; she watched over his safety, and so cautiously observant, that no dish was permitted to appear upon the royal table which had not been prepared under her superintendence.”

Jahanara was also especially close to Dara Shikoh, Shah Jahan’s eldest son and her favourite brother. The two shared a love of poetry, painting, classic literature and Sufism.

In fact, she also wrote many books, including a biography of Ajmer’s Sufi saint Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti, displaying her flair for prose.

The Begum Sahib. Source: Royal India Families/Facebook
The Begum Sahib. Source: Royal India Families/Facebook

But tragedy struck the young princess’s life with the untimely demise of her beloved mother, Mumtaz, in 1631. At the tender age of 17, she was entrusted with the charge of the Imperial Seal and made Malika-e-Hindustan Padshah Begum—the First Lady of the Indian Empire—by the shattered Emperor, whose grief kept him away from his royal duties.

It was only on Jahanara’s behest that the inconsolable Shah Jahan came out of mourning.

In the years to follow, she became her father’s closest confidante and advisor. Highly educated and skilled in diplomatic dealings, her word became so powerful that it could change the fortunes of people. Her favour was much sought-after by foreign emissaries.

In 1654, Shah Jahan attacked Raja Prithvichand of Srinagar. Despairing of success in the battle, the Raja sent a plea for mercy to Jahanara. The Princess asked him to send his son, Medini Singh, as a sign of his loyalty to the Mughal Empire, thereby getting him a pardon from the Emperor.

The following year, when Aurangzeb was the viceroy of the Deccan, he was bent on annexing Golconda, ruled by Abdul Qutb Shah. The Golconda ruler wrote an arzdast(royal request) to the Princess, who intervened on his behalf. Qutb Shah was pardoned by Shah Jahan (against Aurangzeb’s wishes) and secured his safety on payment of tax.

Interestingly, Jahanara was also one of the few Mughal women who owned a ship and traded as an independent entity.

Padshahnama plate 10 : Shah Jahan receives his three eldest sons and Asaf Khan during his accession ceremonies (8 March 1628). Source: Wikimedia Commons
Padshahnama plate 10 : Shah Jahan receives his three eldest sons and Asaf Khan during his accession ceremonies (8 March 1628). Source: Wikimedia Commons

Named ‘Sahibi’ after its owner, Jahanara’s ship would carry the goods made at herkarkhanas (factories) and dock at her very own port in Surat; its revenue and the colossal profits she made via trade significantly boosted her annual income of three million rupees!

In his book Storia Do Mogor, Italian traveller Niccolao Manucci writes, “Jahanara was loved by all, and lived in a state of magnificence.” The book is considered to be one of the most detailed accounts of Shah Jahan’s court.

But Jahanara’s political and economic clout failed to have an impact on the bitter war of succession between her brothers, Dara Shikoh and Aurangzeb. She made several attempts to mediate between them, but as Ira Mukhoty writes in her book Daughters of The Sun , she had “underestimated the corrosive loathing that Aurangzeb has for Dara, whom he blames for his father’s cold criticism throughout his career”.

Aurangzeb ultimately killed Dara Shikoh and placed an ill Shah Jahan under house arrest in Agra Fort’s Muthamman Burj (Jasmine Tower). Faithful to her father, Jahanara set aside her lucrative trade and luxurious lifestyle to accompany him into imprisonment.

A constant presence beside Shah Jahan in his exile, she took care of him for eight years, till he breathed his last in 1666.

“The Passing of Shah Jahan” (1902), a painting by Abanindranath Tagore. At the foot of the bed is Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Shah Jahan; the Taj Mahal is in the background. Source: Wikimedia Commons
“The Passing of Shah Jahan” (1902), a painting by Abanindranath Tagore. At the foot of the bed is Jahanara Begum, the daughter of Shah Jahan; the Taj Mahal is in the background. Source: Wikimedia Commons

It says much for her stature in the Mughal court that after Shah Jahan’s death, Aurangzeb restored her title of Padshah Begum and gave her a pension along with the new title of Sahibat al-Zamani (Lady of the Age)—befitting for a woman who was ahead of her time.

Unlike other royal Mughal princesses, she was also allowed to live in her own mansion outside the confines of the Agra Fort.

“Jahanara establishes herself in the city as the most influential woman patron[s] of literature and poetry. She collects rare and beautiful book[s], and her library is peerless. She donates money to charity, especially Sufi dargahs, and carries on a genteel diplomacy with minor rajas who come to her with grievances and gifts,” writes Ira Mukhoty in her book.

Spending her last years in the pursuit of her artistic and humanitarian passions, Jahanara passed away in 1681 at the age of 67 but not before she etched her mark in the annals of history in a manner that would have made her father proud.

She commissioned several architectural spectacles, mosques, inns and public gardens across the Mughal empire.

But she is best remembered as the architect of Old Delhi’s legendary bazaar, Chandni Chowk—which translates to ‘Moonlit Intersection’.

Water colour of Chandni Chowk in Delhi from ‘Views by Seeta Ram from Delhi to Tughlikabad Vol. VII’. Source: British Library
Water colour of Chandni Chowk in Delhi from ‘Views by Seeta Ram from Delhi to Tughlikabad Vol. VII’. Source: British Library

In his book  Shahjahanabad : The Soverign City in Mughal India , Stephen Blake writes,

“The chowk was an octagon with sides of one hundred yards and a large pool in its center. To the north, Jahanara built a caravansarai (roadside inn) and a garden and, to the south, a bath. On certain nights, the moonlight reflected pale and silvery from the central pool and gave to the area the name Chandni Chawk (Silver or Moonlight Square). This name slowly displaced all others until the entire bazaar, from the Lahori Gate to the Fatehpuri Masjid, became known as Chandni Chawk.”

Today, many of Chandni Chowk’s ancient buildings have been torn down, as its lanes brim with new shops and colliding crowds. And yet, somehow it manages to invoke the spirit with which Jahanara lived—the same spirit that helped her survive and thrive amidst betrayals and tragedies.

Interestingly, Jahanara’s resting place in the Nizamuddin Dargah is of her own choosing, just like her character.

Jahanara’s tomb at the Nizamuddin Dargah. Source
Jahanara’s tomb at the Nizamuddin Dargah. Source

Unlike the giant mausoleums built for her parents, she rests in a simple marble tomb open to the sky, inscribed with her own couplet in Persian:

Baghair subza na poshad kase mazar mara, (Let no one cover my grave except with green grass,)
Ki qabr posh ghariban hamin gayah bas-ast. (For this very grass suffices as a tomb cover for the poor.

Perhaps it is poetic justice that green vines grow on the grave of this extraordinary princess of India.

(Edited by Shruti Singhal)

source: http://www.thebetterindia.com / The Better India / Home> History> Women / by Sanchari Pal / May 24th, 2019

Kababs, kulfis, qormas: Forgotten recipes from Shah Jahan’s kitchens get a second life in this book

NEW DELHI :

‘The Mughal Feast’ by Salma Yusuf Husain recreates the Persian recipe book ‘Nuskha-e-Shahjahani’, providing a glimpse into a bygone era of pomp and show.

Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in his court | Google Cultural Institute/Wikimedia Commos Licensed under CC BY Public Domain Mark 1.0].
Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in his court | Google Cultural Institute/Wikimedia Commos Licensed under CC BY Public Domain Mark 1.0].

The silver twilight of Mughal civilization began with Shah Jahan. Delhi was now a sanctuary of an urbane, sophisticated court which had taste, even elegance. By early 1730 the city had absorbed various elements from neighbouring regions and witnessed a mingling of international as well as national strains and an interchange of ideas, customs and food.

The Portuguese relationship with the Mughals had already been established a long time back, along the trade routes. Hence the imperial kitchens, besides Indian ingredients, saw an additional ingredient brought by the Portuguese – the chilli. The chilli was very similar to the long pepper, already in use, and therefore did not look too unfamiliar to royal chefs, but had the hot taste. Other vegetables like potatoes and tomatoes also appeared on the scene and the food of the Red Fort became rich in colour, hot in taste, and varied as compared to the bland food of its ancestors. Qormas and qaliyas, pulaos and kababs, and vegetables in different garb, besides European cakes and puddings, adorned the table.

Cooking and serving food in the royal kitchens was a riot of colours, fragrances, experiments, table manners and protocols. The emperors usually ate with their queens and concubines, except on festive occasions, when they dined with nobles and courtiers. Daily meals were usually served by eunuchs, but an elaborate chain of command accompanied the food to the table. The hakim (royal physician) planned the menu, making sure to include medicinally beneficial ingredients. For instance, each grain of rice for the pulao was coated with silver warq, which aided digestion and acted as an aphrodisiac. One account records a Mughal banquet given by Asaf Khan, the emperor’s wazir, during Jahangir’s time to Shah Jahan – though no outsider had ever seen any emperor while dining except once when Friar Sebastian Manriquea, a Portuguese priest, was smuggled by an eunuch inside the harem to watch Shah Jahan eat his food with Asaf Khan.

Once the menu was decided, an elaborate kitchen staff – numbering at least a few hundred – swung into action. Since a large number of dishes were served at each meal, an assembly line of staff undertook the chopping and cleaning, the washing and grinding. Food was cooked in rainwater mixed with water brought in from the Ganges for the best possible taste. Not only the cooking but the way the food was served is interesting to note – food was served in dishes made of gold and silver studded with precious stones, and of jade, as it detected poison. The food was eaten on the floor; sheets of leather covered with white calico protected the expensive carpets. This was called dastarkhwan. It was customary for the emperor to set aside a portion of food for the poor before eating. The emperor began and ended his meal with prayers; the banquet ran for hours as Shah Jahan liked to enjoy his food, spending long hours at dastarkhwan.

With the passage of time, indigenization in the cooking style became obvious and certain Indian ingredients, like Kashmiri vadi, sandalwood powder, suhaga, betel leaves, white gourd, and batasha, and fruits like mango, phalsa, banana, etc., were used to give different flavours to dishes.


The arrival of every dish was a ceremony and history will never forget the pomp of those times, along with the flavours which remain only in the pages of handwritten manuscripts of those days, such as Nuskha-e-Shahjahani. Not only the imperial kitchens of the emperor, but also the bazaars of the city were charged with the smoke of different kababs, and the environment was filled with the fragrance of naharihaleem, qormas and qaliyas. The array of breads was dazzling. Festive occasions were never complete without baqarkhani, kulchas and sheermalsSharbat ke katore and kulfi ke matke added colour to the scenario. The city of Shah Jahan was a paradise of food with the creations of local and foreign chefs.

This luxurious way of serving and preparing food continued only till the time Shah Jahan ruled, as his son Aurangzeb did not believe in luxury, pomp and show. Unfortunately, the last years of this great emperor were unhappy. Deposed by his son Aurangzeb, Shah Jahan was imprisoned in Agra Fort and remained there for eight years until his death in 1666. Legend has it that Aurangzeb ordered that his father be allowed only one ingredient of his choice, and Shah Jahan chose chickpeas. He chose them because they can be cooked in many different ways. Even today, one of the signature dishes of North Indian cuisine is Shahjahani dal, chickpeas cooked in a rich gravy of cream.


QALIYA KHASA DO-PIYAZAH

LAMB COOKED WITH ONIONS, GREEN GRAM AND VEGETABLE | Serves: 4-6

INGREDIENTS
Lamb, cut into medium-sized pieces 1 kg
Green gram (moong dal), washed, soaked for ½ hour ¼ cup / 60 gm
Ghee 1 cup / 250 gm
Onions, sliced 1 cup / 250 gm
Salt to taste
Coriander (dhaniya) seeds, pounded 4 tsp / 20 gm
Ginger (adrak), grated 4 tsp / 20 gm
Beetroots (chuqander), peeled, cut into medium-sized pieces 3 cups / 750 gm
Turnips (shalgam), peeled, cut into medium-sized pieces 3 cups / 750 gm
Carrots (gajar), scraped, cut into cubes 3 cups / 750 gm
Rice paste 4 tsp / 20 gm
Saffron (kesar) 2 gm
Freshly ground to a fine powder:
Cinnamon (dalchini) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Cloves (laung) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Green cardamoms (choti elaichi) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Black peppercorns (kali mirch), ground 1 tsp / 5 gm

METHOD
1. Heat 100 gm ghee in a pan; sauté the onions and lamb with 2 tbsp water. Add the salt, pounded coriander seeds and grated ginger; cook, on medium heat, until the lamb is tender.
2. Add the beetroots, turnips, carrots and green gram with enough water to cover; cook the vegetables on low heat.
3. When the vegetables and lamb are fully cooked and at least 1 cup water remains in the pan, remove the pan from the heat and separate the lamb pieces and vegetables from the stock.
4. Temper the stock with the remaining ghee. Return the vegetables and lamb to the stock and bring to a boil. Add the rice paste and mix well.
5. Add the freshly ground spices and mix.
6. Transfer into a serving dish and serve garnished with saffron.

NARANJ PULAO

ORANGE-FLAVOURED LAMB CURRY COOKED WITH RICE | Serves: 6-8

INGREDIENTS
Oranges 4 big / 6 small
Rice 4 cups / 1 kg
Yoghurt (dahi), whisked 1 cup / 250 gm
Lemons (nimbu) 2
Sugar 2 cups / 500 gm
Saffron (kesar) ¼ tsp
Ghee 1 cup / 250 gm
Salt to taste
Dry fruits as needed
Green coriander (hara dhaniya), chopped as needed
For the yakhni:
Lamb, cut into pieces 1 kg
Ghee 1 cup / 1250 gm
Onions, sliced 1 cup / 250 gm
Ginger (adrak) 4 tsp / 20 gm
Salt to taste
Cinnamon (dalchini), 2 sticks 1˝
Green cardamoms (choti elaichi) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Coriander (dhaniya) seeds, crushed 4 tsp / 20 gm
Cloves (laung) ½ tsp / 3 gm

METHOD
1. Peel the oranges carefully so that the case remains intact. Remove the segments and keep aside. Sprinkle salt inside the case and float them in whisked yoghurt for an hour. Remove the cases from the yoghurt and wash with cold water. Boil the orange cases for a minute. Remove and keep aside.
2. In another pan filled with water, squeeze the juice of one lemon and boil the orange cases again. In case lemon is not available, boil in thin yoghurt liquid, simmer to make them tender.
3. Make yakhni with the lamb pieces and all the ingredients mentioned. Temper the stock with cloves.
4. Parboil the rice and keep aside.
5. Prepare a sugar syrup of one-string consistency; keep aside.
6. Remove the seeds and the skin of each segment and coarsely chop and mix with the yakhni. Take 1 tbsp cooked rice and mix it with saffron. Cook on low heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove and keep aside.
7. In a separate pan, spread the yakhni, evenly pour 3 tbsp syrup and simmer, when the syrup is absorbed, spread the rice and pour some ghee. Cover the pan and put on dum. While serving, transfer the pulao into a serving dish and place the orange cases over it. Fill one case with almond halwa, another with pistachio halwa, another with saffron and orange rice and another with salted minced lamb*. Garnish all with dry fruits and chopped coriander.

*You can buy almond halwa, pistachio halwa and salted minced lamb at a grocery store, or make them separately. You can also choose your fillings as per your liking.

GURAK KABAB

CHICKEN STUFFED WITH MEAT AND SLOW-COOKED ON CINNAMON BED | Serves: 4

INGREDIENTS
Chicken, cleaned, washed, skinned 2 (700-800 gm each)
Onion juice ½ cup / 125 ml
Ginger (adrak) juice ¼ cup / 60 ml
Salt to taste
Vegetable oil 3 tbsp / 45 ml
Lamb, minced 400 gm
Onion, medium-sized, sliced 1
Coriander (dhaniya) seeds, crushed 1 tbsp / 15 gm
Ginger (adrak), chopped 1 tbsp / 15 gm
Saffron (kesar), dissolved in milk 1.5 gm
Yoghurt (dahi), whisked ¼ cup / 60 gm
Cinnamon (dalchini) sticks to cover the bottom of the pan 8-10
Ghee ½ cup / 125 gm
Black gram (urad dal) flour ½ cup / 125 gm
Freshly ground to a fine powder:
Cloves (laung) 1 tsp / 5 gm
Cardamom (elaichi) 1 tsp / 5 gm
Black peppercorns (sabut kali mirch) 1 tsp / 5 gm

METHOD
1. Prick the chicken all over with a fork.
2. Marinate the chicken with onion juice, ginger juice and salt; rub well inside and outside the chicken and keep aside for 30 minutes.
3. Heat the oil in a pan; add the minced meat, onion, crushed coriander seeds, chopped ginger and salt. Stir and cook until the meat is tender.
4. Smoke the cooked mixture.
5. Fill the chicken with the minced lamb and tie both legs with twine to keep the shape of the chicken intact.
6. Mix the saffron and ground spices with the yoghurt.
7. Apply the yoghurt and saffron mixture all over the chickens evenly.
8. Spread the cinnamon sticks on the bottom of the pan. Place the chicken on the cinnamon bed and pour the ghee around.
9. Make a semi-hard dough of black gram flour. Cover the pan and seal with this dough.
10. Place the pan on low charcoal heat and cook on dum for 4 hours.
11. Remove the cover, take the chicken out, cut into four pieces and serve over the mince.

BAQLAWA

LAYERED SQUARES GARNISHED WITH PISTACHIOS | Yield: 10

INGREDIENTS
Egyptian lentil 1 cup / 250 gm
Ghee 1 cup / 250 gm
Ginger (adrak) 4 tsp / 20 gm
Salt 8 tsp / 40 gm
Wholewheat flour (atta) 4 cups / 1 kg
Kid fat 4 tsp / 20 gm
Sugar 2 cups / 500 gm
Pistachios (pista), pounded 8 tsp / 40 gm
Freshly ground to a fine powder: 
Cinnamon (dalchini) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Cloves (laung) ½ tsp / 3 gm
Green cardamoms (choti elaichi) ½ tsp / 3 gm

METHOD
1. Boil the lentil until soft. Remove from heat and drain. Fry the lentil in little ghee with ginger and salt. Then add enough water to cook the lentil, ensuring that it is not mashed and each grain looks separate. Sprinkle the ground spices and smoke the mixture.
2. Knead the flour into a hard dough (in summer one part ghee and two parts kid fat is used while in winter the proportions should be equal).
3. Divide the dough equally into small portions. Roll each portion out into a thin poori, apply ghee and dust with dry flour, sprinkle the lentil mixture lightly and cover with another poori. Repeat the process with 5-7 pooris.
4. Shape them into squares and secure the edges with water.
5. Heat the ghee in a pan; deep-fry the squares. Remove and keep aside to cool.
6. Make a sugar syrup and soak the fried squares in it. When the syrup is absorbed, sprinkle pounded pistachios.

MughalCookBook02MPOs18may2019

Excerpted with permission from The Mughal Feast: Recipes from the Kitchen of Emperor Shah Jahan, a transcreation of Nuskha-e-Shahjahani by Salma Yusuf Husain, Roli Books.

source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> Magazine> Book Excerpt / by Salma Yusuf Husain / May 18th, 2019

I’m Both Muslim & Indian – My Father Didn’t Take the Train to Pak

NEW DELHI :

Image of the book cover and the author.(Photo: Altered by Kamran Akhter / The Quint)
Image of the book cover and the author.(Photo: Altered by Kamran Akhter / The Quint)

(The following has been excerpted with permission, from author Rakhshanda Jalil’s latest book ‘But You Don’t Look Like a Muslim’, published by Harper Collins India. Sub-headers are NOT part of the book, and have been added by The Quint.)

I was eight years old in 1971. I remember the brown paper pasted on our windowpanes, the trenches dug in the park facing our house in a South Delhi neighborhood, and the near-palpable fear of air strikes that held us in thrall.

I also remember being called a ‘Paki’ by other kids in school, as India and Pakistan prepared to go to war against each other yet again, or at least the only time in living memory for my generation.

Being the only Muslim child in class, many of my peers, a Kashmiri Pandit boy in particular, took great delight in grilling me on my Pak connections. I tried, in vain, to explain that I had none. But no one would believe my stoic denials; I was a Muslim after all, I must have relatives in Pakistan. My sympathies must necessarily lie with ‘them’. And this tacit sympathy – taken for granted by my young tormentors – made me as much an enemy as ‘them’.

The Option of Going to Pakistan – And the Choice to Stay Back in ‘Hindustan’

I remember coming home in tears one afternoon. I remember my father, a man of great good sense, sitting down with me and giving me a little spiel. That afternoon chat was to give form and shape to my sense of nationhood in more ways than I could then fathom. It was also to place me squarely on a trajectory that has allowed me to chart my destiny in 21st century India precisely as I wish – not out of defiance or head-on collision, but with self-assurance and poise.

My father started by telling me how he had to leave his home in Pilibhit, a small town in the Terai region bordering the foothills of the Himalayas, and find shelter in a mosque, how many homes in his neighbourhood were gutted, others were vacated almost overnight by families leaving for Pakistan, and his goggle-eyed surprise at the first sight of the Sikh refugees who moved into the houses abandoned by fleeing Muslims.

Image of the book cover. (Photo: Harper Collins India)
Image of the book cover.
(Photo: Harper Collins India)

While the option of going to Pakistan was there for him too – a newly-qualified doctor from a prestigious colonial-era medical college in Lucknow – he chose not go. In choosing to stay back and raise a family here in this land where his forefathers had lived and died, he was putting down more roots – stronger and deeper into the soil that had sustained generations before him. ‘Wear your identity, if you must, as a badge of courage not shame’, he said.

Why Muslims Like My Family Chose Nehru Over Jinnah

He also gave the example of my mother’s father, Ale Ahmad Suroor, a well-known name in the world of Urdu letters, and his decision too, to stay put, despite the many inducements that were offered to qualified Muslim men from sharif families. The ‘Land of the Pure’ held out many promises: a lecturer could become a professor, a professor a Vice-Chancellor, sons would get good jobs, daughters find better grooms and there would be peace and prosperity among one’s own sort.

And yet, my mother’s family like my father’s, chose not to go. To be honest, I was later told, my grandmother – a formidably headstrong lady – wanted to go, especially since many in her family had moved to Karachi.

But my grandfather, then a Lecturer at Lucknow University, was adamant: his future and his children’s lay here in ‘Hindustan’. And so they stayed. In the face of plain good sense, some might say. Why? What made them stay when so many were going?

Over the years, I have had many occasions to dwell upon this – both on the possible reasons, and the implications of their decision. I have grappled with my twin identities (am I an Indian Muslim or a Muslim Indian?), or tried not to sound defensive about my so-called liberalism, or struggled to accept the patronising compliment of being a ‘secular Muslim’ without cringing. And I have wondered, why families like mine, in the end, chose Jawaharlal Nehru over Mohammad Ali Jinnah.

How Did Muslims Become the ‘Other’?

Like many Muslims in India, I have often wondered if the cleavage of hearts and land was truly inevitable, or could it have been averted? What would have been the state of the Indian sub-continent today had a pact been reached between the Muslim League and the Congress? What happened to the heady days of 1919, when Hindus and Muslims had come together to fight the common enemy, the British? What went so wrong between the two major communities of the subcontinent? What caused the disenchantment with the Congress? What made some staunch Congressmen rally around the once-derided Muslim League? What cooled the Muslim’s ardour to join nationalistic mainstream politics?

For that matter, why was the Muslim suddenly regarded as a toady and a coward, content to let the Hindus fight for freedom from the imperial yoke? Why was he suddenly beyond the pale? How did he become the ‘other’?

And what of the dream of the ‘Muslim Renaissance’, spelt out in such soul-stirring verse by the visionary poet Iqbal? In turn, why did the Congress balk at the issue of separate electorates, calling it absurd and retrograde? Why did it do nothing to allay the Muslim fear that the freedom promised by the Congress meant freedom for Hindus alone, not freedom for all?

Seen from the Muslim point of view, the Congress appeared guilty of many sins of omission and some of commission. ‘Nationalism’ increasingly began to mean thinking and living in the ‘Congress way’ and none other. Those who lived or thought another way, came to be regarded as ‘anti-national’, especially in the years after Independence.

How the Muslim League ‘Divided’ Muslims

However, to come back to the Muslim League and the extreme reactions it has always evoked among Indian Muslims, it is interesting to explore why the ‘League logic’ enamoured some so completely, and left others cold. When the Leaguers (or ‘Leaguii’ as they were referred to among Urdu speakers) first spoke of protecting the rights of the Muslims by securing fair representation in the legislature, they were giving voice to a long-felt need to recognize the Muslims as a distinct religious and political unit.

On the face of it, these seemed perfectly legitimate aspirations; the problem, I suspect, lay in the manner in which the Muslim League went about its business. It employed a combination of rhetoric and religion to bludgeon its way.

It used fear as a campaign tool, making Muslims view all Hindus as a ‘threat’ to their survival, once Independence was achieved and the ‘protective’ presence of the British removed.

The sentiment behind Choudhry Rahmat Ali’s pamphlet Now or Never: Are We to Live or Perish Forever? was echoed by countless volunteers – clad in the by-now trademark black shervani-white ‘Aligarh-cut’ pajama – who saw themselves as soldiers in the “grim and fateful struggle against political crucifixion and complete annihilation”. They descended in droves on towns and hamlets all across Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, where their speeches – delivered in chaste Urdu and peppered with suitably rousing verses penned by Iqbal and Mohamed Ali and Hafiz Jallundari – found rapt audiences and deep pockets. While a great many began to share their enthusiasm for the Muslim League, and simple country women began to stitch League flags out of every available bit of green fabric, an equal number still held out.

The Pain of Partition

Quite a few were frankly unconvinced by the very notion of Muslims being a homogenised monolithic community that could be brought under the green banner unfurled by that most unlikely of all Muslim leaders – the Karachi-born, English-speaking, ultra-anglicised Jinnah.

Many Muslims began to see the bogey of Hindu domination as exaggerated, others were uneasy with the theocratic underpinnings of the proposed new homeland.

The Muslim League’s final unequivocal demand – a separate homeland – did not appeal to some Muslims for the same reasons of faulty logic. Jinnah’s assurance of providing constitutional safeguards to minorities, appeared humbug in the face of his proclamation of a Pakistan that would be a hundred percent Muslim. As Partition drew near, scores of Muslims who had hitched their star to the wagon of the Muslim League, began to leave for the new homeland. Families began to be divided, often with one sibling opting for Pakistan and – as it were – choosing Jinnah over Nehru – and the other digging their heels in and putting their faith in a new secular nation.

In the end, while it is clear why those who went did so, it is not always entirely evident why those who didn’t go chose to stay back. Was it gross sentiment or astute foresight that kept them back? Was the choice between Nehru over Jinnah made from the head or the heart?

My Grandfather’s Wise Words in ‘Khwaab Baqui Hain’

The generation that could have fully and satisfactorily answered these questions is either dead and gone or too frail to be disturbed by ghosts from a troubled past. Hoping to find some clues, I find myself turning the pages of my grandfather’s autobiography, Khwaab Baqui Hain (‘Dreams Still Remain’). His words bring me solace and hold out hope for my own future and that of my children:

I am a Musalman and, in the words of Maulana Azad, a caretaker of the thirteen hundred years of the wealth that is Islam”. My deciphering of Islam is the key to the interpretation of my spirit. I am also an Indian and this Indianness is as much a part of my being. Islam does not deter me from believing in my Indian identity. Again, to quote Maulana Azad, if anything “it shows the way”.

While it is true that I imbibed religion from my family and the environment in which I grew up, my own experiences and understanding made its foundations stronger. In Badayun, religion was the name for blind faith in traditionalism and age-old orthodoxies, miracles and marvels, faith healing by pirs and fakirs. I believe Belief in One God leads the way to equality among all mankind. Allah is not simply Rabbu’l-Muslimeen [‘the Lord of Muslims’]; He is also Rabbu’l Aalameen [‘the Lord of the World’]. The all-encompassing compactness of the personality of the Prophet of Islam has always drawn me.

Islam doesn’t teach renunciation from the affairs of the world; it teaches us how to fulfill our duties in this world while at the same time instructing us to regard this mortal world as the field in which we sow the seeds for the Other World. There is no obduracy in Islam. I have seldom found obdurate people to be good human beings. The Islam that I know gives more importance to Huqooq-ul ibad [‘rights of the people’] rather than Huqooq-ul Lah [‘rights of God’].

Despite Ayodhya & Gujarat, I’m Glad Families Like Mine Didn’t Choose Pakistan Over India

I am hopeful that Islam will ‘show the way’ as, indeed it did for my grandfather – a much-feted Urdu writer, critic, poet and teacher – and will in no way deter me from believing in my Indian identity as much as in my religious one.

As I clock in a half century and more, I find I have done my share of soul-searching and raking over the ashes. I am done, too, with defensive or aggressive posturing, or the equally ridiculous sitting-on-the-fence. Life has come full circle.

My daughters went to the same school and university as I did. The clamorous unruly Jana Sangh of my childhood has been replaced by the Bharatiya Janta Party, a stronger, more vociferous – yet no less militant – face of the Hindu right-wing. My daughters meet their share of Muslim-baiters. I have told them what my father said to me. As I watch them grow into confident young people, I know that they shall cope, as I did. That they shall enjoy the dual yet in no way conflicting identities – of being Muslim and being Indian in no particular order.

Despite Ayodhya and Gujarat, despite the politicians who come and go spouting venom and spreading biases, despite the many bad jokes about katuas, despite the discrimination that is sometimes overt and often covert, I do feel, it is a good thing that families like mine chose not to hitch their star to the wagon of the Muslim League.

(Rakhshanda Jalil is a writer, translator and literary historian. She runs Hindustani Awaaz, an organisation devoted to the popularisation of Urdu literature. She tweets at@RakhshandaJalil. This is an opinion piece and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for the same.)

source: http://www.thequint.com / The Quint / Home> Books / by Rakshanda Jalil / May 15th, 2019

‘Moideen’s personality transcended politics’

Mangaluru , KARNATAKA :

There are very few people who are remembered as good politicians and B A Moideen is one of them, former Mangalore University History Prof Surendra Rao said.

Releasing ‘The I within Me’, the English version of Moideen’s autobiography in Mangaluru on Wednesday, he said that the humanitarian values that Moideen believed in and followed transcended the boundaries of politics.

Terming the autobiography rare, Prof Rao pointed out that the work was not a repository of self-praise (as most autobiographies are).

“Instead, it traces the socio-political developments of his time, in an accurate way,” he remarked.

“It seems that Moideen had a soft corner for his party. This is reflected in his opinions on the Emergency rule in India. But, all other incidents in his life are recorded by him without any prejudice. In all, his life is a lesson that no community can live an island; separated from others. This message is reflected in his work”, Prof Rao said.

Releasing the book, Urban Development Minister U T Khader said that B A Moideen had shown the way for modern-day politicians. “He was known for his idealistic politics. Sacrifices made by him are evident in the book,” he added.

The minister opined that good autobiographies in Kannada should be translated to English and vice versa.

Chief Minister’s parliamentary secretary Ivan D’Souza, journalist Abdussalam Puttige, Beary’s Group of Institutions chairman Syed Muhammed Beary and P A Engineering College Principal Dr Abdul Sharrif were present.

source: http://www.deccanherald.com / Deccan Herald / Home> State> Mangaluru / by DH News Service, Mangaluru / May 03rd, 2019

Indian-origin anti-apartheid activists receive South Africa’s highest National Order awards

SOUTH AFRICA :

Fatima Meer and Shantie Naidoo, two Indian-origin women veterans of the freedom struggle in South Africa, were conferred South Africa’s highest National Order awards by President Jacob Zuma.

South Africa President Jacob Zuma presenting the awards. Photo courtesy: GovernmentZA
South Africa President Jacob Zuma presenting the awards. Photo courtesy: GovernmentZA

Meer posthumously received the Order of Luthuli in Silver; while Shantie Naidoo joined 21 others, who were part of a group who suffered at the hands of the apartheid-era security police, to receive the same award at the Presidential Guest House in Pretoria.

Meer,  who was a longtime friend of the late Nelson Mandela together with her husband Ismail Meer, started her activist career as a high school student aged 17 in 1945.

“The Indian community suffered the enactment of the first Segregation Act which restricted their economic and residential rights to specific areas in the country,” said Meer’s citation from the President. “The Indian community resisted by organising Satyagraha, the first since Gandhi’s Satyagraha at the close of the century.”

Meer mobilised high school students and established the Students Passive Resistance Committee to canvass and raise funds for the Passive Resistance Campaign.

Meer was a prolific writer, historian and sociologist, and penned many books including a biography of Mandela, as well as the script for the film Taj Mahal, made by Indian filmmaker Akbar Khan.

In 1969, she published a book, Portrait of Indian South Africans, donating the total proceeds thereof to the Gandhi Settlement towards the building of the Gandhi Museum and Clinic at the Phoenix Settlement started by Gandhi. After the advent of democracy in 1994 under President Mandela, Meer served as a member of parliament before her death in 2010.

Fatima Meer. saha.co.za
Fatima Meer. saha.co.za

Naidoo is a descendant of Thambi Naidoo, one of Gandhi’s most trusted lieutenants during his tenure in South Africa. She was imprisoned multiple times as a member of the Transvaal Indian Congress and the African National Congress.

“My mother Amma Naidoo, inspired by my grandfather Thambi before her, was at the forefront of the historic Women’s March to the Union Buildings in Pretoria in 1956 to protest the unjust anti-apartheid laws,” Naidoo said.

“Her undying commitment to justice, freedom and equality was in turn an inspiration to me, my brother and sisters,” said Naidoo at the award reception.

source:  http://www.connectedtoindia.com / Connected To India / Home> News Global / by Tushaar Kuthiala / May 02nd, 2017

Oklahoma Commission on Status of Women Gets Kashmiri-American Muslim Commissioner

JAMMU & KASHMIR / NEW DELHI / Oklahoma , U.S.A. :

Dr. Nyla Ali Khan
Dr. Nyla Ali Khan

Oklahoma City :

Dr. Nyla Ali Khan has been appointed as a Commissioner on the Oklahoma Commission on the Status of Women. She has been appointed for a five-year term by Senator Greg Treat, who is President Pro Tempora of the Oklahoma Senate.

“The Oklahoma Legislature created the Oklahoma Commission on the Status of Women in 1994 to act as an advisory entity on equity issues relating to gender bias; monitor legislation to determine whether it is discriminatory toward one gender or the other; act as a resource and a clearinghouse for research on issues related to women and gender bias; report annually to the governor, president pro tempore of the Senate, and speaker of the House of Representatives regarding its activities and make recommendations concerning needed legislation or regulatory changes relating to equity and gender bias.”

Dr. Nyla Ali Khan is the first South Asian Muslim member of the Oklahoma Commission on the Status of Women. She said that as a member of the Oklahoma Commission on the Status of Women, she acts as a resource and provides expertise to the Commission. She provides research and information on societal violence and structural inequities that result from deep-rooted prejudices against women. Dr. Nyla Khan said, “The questions to which I seek to provide well-substantiated answers are as follows: How can we, as women, develop the ability to organize and mobilize for social change, which requires the creation of awareness not just at the individual level but at the collective level as well? How can we develop self-esteem for which some form of financial autonomy is a basis? How can we make strategic life choices that are critical for people to lead the sort of lives they want to lead? We require a quality education for these mammoth tasks.”

c.reddirtreport.com

source: http://www.caravandaily.com / Caravan Daily / Home> Indian Muslim / March 12th, 2019

Welcome to the graveyard of rare books, also known as the Saulat Public Library, Rampur

Rampur, UTTAR PRADESH   :

Priceless editions of Urdu, Persian and English lie in neglect as no one cares to maintain a library that should have been a national treasure.

Daniel Jacobius Morgan
Daniel Jacobius Morgan

I have spent much of the past week digging through piles of books at the Saulat Public Library in the city of Rampur in Uttar Pradesh. I am looking for a single manuscript: Muhammad Sanaʾullah Panipati’s Khawass-i Hizb al-Bahr, an 18th century Persian commentary, written in Delhi, on the occult properties of a famous prayer formulae compiled by Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, the Maghribi mystic of the 13th century. It is, very likely, the only copy of the commentary in the world.

I know it is somewhere in the library because it appears in Abid Reza Bedar’s 1966 catalogue, but despite my excavations and those of Mazhar Muin Khan, the endlessly patient librarian, the manuscript remains hidden.

I am sure that Muhammad Sanaʾullah Panipati would have understood my search: just as words have occult sympathies with the material world, so too does this hidden manuscript exercise its power, drawing me to the library day after day although it remains unseen, buried beneath thick layers of dust, cobwebs and mouldering pages. As I dig through the stacks, I can’t help but call to mind the hadith qudsi: “I was a hidden treasure that loved to be known.”The disappearance of a single manuscript, though serious in itself, is part of a far larger problem at Saulat Library: one of India’s richest archives of Urdu, Persian and Arabic works, it has fallen into a state of absolute desuetude.

Reader's ticket
Reader’s ticket

Founded in 1934, the library was once an important centre of political and social life for North Indian Muslims. In its heyday, famous visitors included Khalid Sheldrake (the British pickle manufacturer turned king of Chinese “Islamistan”), Sayyid Hashimi Faridabadi (author of a famous Urdu history of Greece), Khwaja Hasan Nizami (the great Chishti Sufi of Delhi), and the Agha Khan.

Besides 25,000 Urdu printed books – including the only known first edition of Ghalib’s 1841 Urdu diwan – the library holds hundreds of irreplaceable manuscripts: eighteenth-century Afghan chronicles, works on occult science, personal diaries of Rampuri notables, volumes of Persian poetry, and richly-illuminated Qurʾāns. It also holds a complete run of Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s Persian newspaper Jam-i Jahan Numa, Muhammad ʿAli Jauhar’s Urdu-language Hamdard and English-language Comrade, as well as Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s Tahzib al-Akhlaq.

Since the partition, when many of its leading lights moved to Pakistan, it has undergone a process of steady decline. A further blow came with the abolition of the privy purse of the Rampuri royal family, the library’s major patrons.

The reading room with pictures of Hakim Ajmal Khan, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, Muhammad Ali and the first Nawab of Rampur
The reading room with pictures of Hakim Ajmal Khan, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, Muhammad Ali and the first Nawab of Rampur

These days, residents of Rampur have barely heard its name. As I searched for it in the city’s narrow lanes, I kept being directed to its well-funded and illustrious sister library, the Raza Library, housed in the old Nawabi palace. Like its manuscripts, Saulat is hidden. To get there you have to walk through the winding streets that lead to the heart of the Chaku (knife) Bazaar to a small courtyard behind the city’s Jama Masjid (the congregational mosque). The library is up an unlit staircase behind a tailor’s shop. You really have to know where it is to get there.

The main reading room only has three walls now: the fourth collapsed in March 2013, and there is no money to replace it. All the books have now been moved into a single room where the electricity is intermittent at best and daylight comes in through a few holes in the ceiling. The library was already in poor condition when the wall fell. Since then the cataloguing system has broken down entirely.
External view with missing wall
External view with missing wall
The library’s one regular patron, a retired engineer who studied at Aligarh Muslim University, comes each morning to read the newspaper. He described the library as a “graveyard for books” (kitabon ka qabaristan). It is hard to disagree: the books are piled high on shelves, some strewn on the floor, torn and covered in dust so thick it looks like the set of a low-grade horror film.The sad irony is that the collection survived almost certain destruction once before. In the violence that accompanied partition in 1947, the managing committee of the library faced an enraged crowd who were marching through the city torching government buildings. Because the library is located in a former tehsil office, it was targeted for destruction. Forming a human chain, they passed thousands of books, manuscripts and newspapers from hand to hand across the courtyard that separates the library from the Jama Masjid (congregational mosque) some eighty metres away. But where fire and violence failed, ants and neglect are winning the day.I have come to Rampur to gather materials for my PhD dissertation on the history of eighteenth-century North Indian intellectual culture. For my task, the most precious manuscripts are often those that were never printed because they reveal much about fields of knowledge that were neglected with the coming of colonial rule. To see these irreplaceable texts crumbling before my eyes is heartbreaking.

A water-damaged Persian manuscript
A water-damaged Persian manuscript

Given the working conditions, Mazhar Muin’s daily enthusiasm for our thus far thankless search is remarkable. But without some urgent action to preserve or at least digitise the collection, the loss to India’s intellectual history will be immense. In the words of Ghalib:

“nāla-yi dil ne diye aurāq-i laḳht-i dil ba bād
yādgār-i nāla ek dīwān-i be-shīrāza thā”

“The heart’s lament threw the pages of the heart’s fragments to the wind
The memorial to the lament was a single unbound book.”

Neglected stacks
Neglected stacks