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

Victoria’s secret: Karim’s great grandson lives in Bengaluru!

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Bengaluru, KARNATAKA :

The family had moved to England at the Queen’s behest, bringing great solace to an increasingly homesick Karim, said Mahmood.

Javed Mahmood, Abdul Karim’s great grandson
Javed Mahmood, Abdul Karim’s great grandson

It was an April morning in Bengaluru and Javed Mahmood, as was his custom, sat down to flip through the newspapers. The year was 2010, nearly two decades since he had moved to the city to live a quiet retired life. His relatives were scattered between Bengaluru and Karachi, as they had been since Independence. Very little remained of the family’s rich history, much of what they had left was lost in the traumas of Partition and mostly forgotten. That summer morning in 2010, however, everything changed. Mahmood found, to his astonishment, that Indian author Shrabani Basu’s Victoria and Abdul: The True Story of the Queen’s Closest Confidant had uncovered the truth behind his great grandfather Abdul Karim telling a tale of friendship and loyalty. Mahmood talks to Darshana  Ramdev about a family that has been steeped in history since, with his father, Anwar being a founding member of Bata in 1933.

“I rushed at once to the British Council and asked them to help me contact her,” said Mahmood, whose grandfather, Abdul Rashid, was Karim’s adopted son. “We didn’t actually know he was adopted until Karim’s death in 1909 and the inheritance had to be dealt with.” The family had moved to England at the Queen’s behest, bringing great solace to an increasingly homesick Karim. “The Queen made them feel very much at home my grandfather received the same education that Edward VII and the rest of her children had earlier received.” The Queen, who was aware of the couple’s inability to have children, sent her personal physician, Dr. John Reid, to examine (much to his horror) Karim’s wife.

Abdul Karim with his adopted son, Abdul Rashid in England
Abdul Karim with his adopted son, Abdul Rashid in England

“Abdul Karim had been greatly maligned by historians the Queen’s family may have wanted to destroy all trace of his presence in the court. Ms Basu had gained access to hidden archives, however. Our family still had a few documents – the diary being one of them, so Shrabani and I hopped on a plane to Karachi at once!” Karim’s descendants there were understandably wary, but Mahmood succeeded in coaxing them to part with the diary. Like most people of the time, Karim maintained meticulous written records into his life, which helped set the record straight on the stream of allegations that had been made against his character. “The diary proved beyond doubt that their relationship was marked by great affection, but had remained platonic always,” said Mahmood.

Javed Mahmood’s father, Anwar Mahmood, was one of the founding members of Bata in 1933. He started the Trot Shoe Company in 1963, setting up a second factory in Whitefield in 1970.
Javed Mahmood’s father, Anwar Mahmood, was one of the founding members of Bata in 1933. He started the Trot Shoe Company in 1963, setting up a second factory in Whitefield in 1970.

It contained valuable insights into Queen Victoria’s much loved Munshi, or teacher, the prepossessing young man who won the affections of a foreboding monarch with a reputation for a heart of stone. He was presented as an orderly to the Queen, which he didn’t like it was not a fitting position for the son of a landed ‘doctor’.  He soon found himself promoted to Munshi, leading the now ailing Empress to a discovery of India. The Queen’s love for her young munshi drew jealousy, hatred and racial prejudice in a society known for its repressive puritanical leanings. Neither cared, however, with the Queen sticking her neck out on numerous instances to defend her young friend. “She was always caring and appreciative of our customs every Eid, she would walk across the grounds to Karim Cottage (on the Osborne House estate) to visit the family.” They were, in turn, invited up to the palace for tea during Christmas “The Queen would even have the windows covered with silk curtains so Karim’s family could keep the purdah. He was also a wonderful cook  he would cook for her on occasion, as an act of love.”

Little was known of his life after the Queen’s death in 1901: Karim and his family were unceremoniously deported, almost at once, by a jealous Edward VII, who been aroused to such fits of rage that he had even attempted to force his mother to abdicate from office, on grounds of insanity. “Soon after the Queen’s death, King Edward arrived at Karim Cottage in Osborne House and ordered Rashid, who was a teenager at the time, to scour the house for any heirlooms or documents that contained the royal insignia. The little they could salvage, including Karim’s diary, returned with him to Agra in 1901, where he died eight years later. “He died at the age of 48 and the family was given his inheritance,” said Mahmood.

These remained with the family for some decades, until talk of Partition began to do the rounds. “We were a fairly prominent family and were advised at the time to shift temporarily to Bhopal, until the trouble blew over,” said Mahmood. This they did, greatly underestimating the scope of the problem and packing only the essentials. When the Partition took place, the family was evacuated to Mumbai, but many of the treasures were lost in transit. “The diary was with my grandfather, who was the custodian of Karim’s things.” The family moved to Karachi, save for Mahmood’s mother, Begum Qamar Jahan and two sisters. The diary went to Pakistan with them. “One of the sisters eventually shifted to Pakistan too,” he explained.

Meanwhile, in 1933, Bata, which was a burgeoning Czech company, found itself in hot water after the nation was declared Communist. The company decided to set up a factory near Calcutta, where leather was widely available. The large Muslim population in the area was another perk, providing the tannery services they so badly needed. “My father, Anwar Mahmood, was one of the founding members of the company,” he said. He joined the company at the age of 16 and worked there for nearly 30 years before he started his own business, the Trot Shoe Company. The first factory was set up in Kolkata in 1963 and the second in Whitefield, in 1970. “The organised shoe industry didn’t exist in South India and the Karnataka government had offered businesses a number of benefits, which led us here,” said Mahmood. Natural rubber, an important raw material and was grown abundantly in Kerala, making it easily accessible.  “My elder brother managed the factory here, I handled the one in Kolkata and my parents shuttled between the two cities. When my younger brother was ready to start work, we established a third branch in Hosur.” Javed Mahmood and his younger brother still call Bengaluru home.

Mahmood tells his story from San Francisco, where calls have been pouring in from across the world since the release of the film, Victoria and Abdul. “The film is doing very well, it’s being shown at local theatres here as well and friends have been getting in touch to tell me how much they enjoyed it,” he smiles.

“My great grandfather’s relationship with the Queen had been presented as scandalous and sleazy he was falsely accused of every imaginable sin. Ms Basu read Karim’s diary cover-to-cover and brought those insights into the second edition of her book.” And that’s how Abdul Karim’s story received its long overdue re-telling, well over a 100 years after his death in 1909. “Queen Victoria was a woman far ahead of her times, rising well above the prejudices that so plagued her society, to defend the young Indian man she called a friend. I think there’s a lesson in it for all of us even today.”

source: http://www.deccanchronicle.com / Deccan Chronicle / Home> Nation – In Other News / by Darshana Ramdev, Deccan Chronicle / October 14th, 2017

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

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TAMIL NADU :

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second Lucknow ‘fixed’ in sepia

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WEST BENGAL :

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Interact with the author @Prannay13

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

Get the taste of a culinary story

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KERALA :

UmmiAbdullaMPOs01oct2018

A Kitchen Full of Stories, a coffee table book on Mappila cuisine, released

Every ingredient has a story to tell, and the dishes are like a great story, as chef Regi Mathew described cooking in a nutshell.

Similar is A Kitchen Full of Stories, a coffee table book released on Saturday. The book, in a mix of stories and recipes of traditional Mappila cuisine, documents the culinary journey of its writer, Ummi Abdulla.

Alongside are anecdotes from her growing years and tips from her own kitchen. The book that has evolved over seven years was conceptualised by her grand-daughter, Nazaneen Jalaludheen.

Releasing the book, N. Ram, chairman, The Hindu Publishing Group, said, “It goes without saying that this book is indispensable to anyone interested in Mappila cuisine. At one level, it is a cookbook — a practical guide to and celebration of Mappila kitchen treasures. But it is more than that. It introduces us to the culture and tradition of a community.”

“In a wider sense, it is a celebration of the idea of India, the rich diversity and plurality and the secular spirit of its historical civilisation that has come under stress and challenge today. It is the celebration of the greatness of our historical civilisation, which has welcomed influences from anywhere in the world,” he said.

Nandini Rao, chairman and managing director, Orient Blackswan, said coconut, coconut oil and rice formed the foundation of all food from Kerala.

“But Arab influences in Mappila cuisine are clearly evident and provide an element of surprise. A Kitchen Full of Stories evokes not just the food of the community but also the customs and traditions of the community that has contributed to the richness and diversity of India,” she said.

Ms. Jalaludheen said being a self-published book, they used crowdfunding as a way for people to book in advance. S. Muthiah, historian, Geeta Doctor, author and S.R. Madhu, writer-editor were present.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Staff Reporter / Chennai – September 29th, 2018

Rahman Abbas: ‘English writers enjoy more freedom than us’

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Mumbai, MAHARASHTRA :

Urdu writer Rahman Abbas on the challenges of being defiant

RahmanAbbasBookMPOs28sept2018

A few paragraphs were all it took for the trouble to start. Thirteen years ago, Urdu writer Rahman Abbas was booked for obscenity for his debut novel Nakhlistan ki Talash, a love story set in Bombay following the 1992-93 riots. The offending two or three paragraphs dealt with love and sex.

It’s been more than 10 years since that particular combination of words got him arrested and two since the case of obscenity was closed. But aside from polishing the rawness of a first novel, he probably wouldn’t change the words.

“I may [take] care about a few words; I will use those words but will try to use them more creatively,” he says, when asked what he would have done in hindsight. “But I don’t think there is any word we should hide. I, for one, cannot.” He continues, “As Manto said, you say ‘breast’ for ‘breast’, you can’t use another word. Or for a ‘chair’ you have to say ‘chair’, you cannot say ‘donkey’.”

RahmanAbbasMPOs28sept2018

A medium-height man with a soul patch and a disarming frankness, Abbas, 46, is currently translating Nakhlistan into English, and expects it to be published next year. He has just come back from a tour of Germany with the German translation of his fourth and latest novel Rohzin—the first time any of his novels has been translated. Next month, Rohzin’s English translation, by Sabika Abbas Naqvi, is slated for release. Set in Mumbai, the love story opens with the flood of July 2005 and won a state Sahitya Akademi award in 2017.

But to a general audience Abbas, a former teacher, is still perhaps best known as the writer who found himself in the crosshairs of an outdated legal provision: Section 292 of the Indian Penal Code that punishes obscenity in writing and art.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he says. “These are the challenges you have to face as a writer or creative person. If your society is orthodox, it is your duty to challenge the orthodoxy.”

And that is precisely what he plans to do. Since the police case that changed his life, Abbas has left the teaching profession, won and returned a Sahitya Akademi award, won and retained a Sahitya Akademi award, and is in the incipient stages of launching a broader campaign against Section 292. That section, among others, has for years been a part of the restrictive free speech architecture that bedevils Indian writers and artists.

“There is freedom for people to protest against a book, to dislike a book. I respect that freedom. If I have the freedom to write, people have the freedom to criticise,” says Abbas, who won his first state Sahitya Akademi award for his third novel, Ek Mamnua Mohabbat ki Kahani . “But a [legal] provision that gives people an opportunity to send a writer to jail, that should be stopped.” He adds, “For a democracy, this is crucial.”

The first step, Abbas believes, is to galvanise public opinion through writing and advocacy against Section 292 in particular. A public interest litigation (PIL) opposing the use of this provision against writers and artists is already in the works.

Abbas is also busy working on a fresh piece of Urdu fiction, his first literary effort since the case against him was closed in 2016, liberating him in several ways. “For my next novel, I will try to explore the things I couldn’t explore in my previous three novels,” he says. “Since the case has ended, I feel I am free to write.”

Abbas denies the impact that fame— or infamy—can have on the reception of a work. “I think if you aren’t a good writer, it will not help,” he says. “Nothing can help.” He names Sadat Hasan Manto and Ismat Chughtai as illustrious Urdu predecessors who were prosecuted (though ultimately unsuccessfully) under the same law he was. Then he chuckles: “There is no single example of bad writers having any problem.”

Good or bad, Indian filmmakers and artists have consistently faced oppressive free speech laws, whether through criminal prosecution, government bans or threats from conservative factions.

In 2016, various groups protested against Tamil writer Perumal Murugan’s One Part Woman and sought a ban on it. In 2015, Jharkhand-based writer Hansda Sowvendra Shekhar’s The Adivasi Will Not Dance was banned by the state government on allegations of having violated Section 292, among others. Earlier this month, the Supreme Court dismissed a plea seeking a ban on the Malayalam novel Meesha. To Abbas, this is part of a wider pattern. “English writers enjoy more freedom than us. I don’t know why. Alice Walker’s novel was in our syllabus and used those same words that I did and went to jail for,” he says. “On the one hand, the Government makes you read a book; on the other hand, if you use the same word in your text, you are a criminal.”

Though he was let off without a trial—the complainant told the court she had misunderstood the offending passages and the case was closed—Abbas spent one night under arrest in Arthur Road jail until his lawyer was able to complete the bail formalities. “It was quite a humiliating process,” he says, its memory still fresh more than a decade later. “When you go to jail, you feel your whole freedom is gone, that you will never get out of there.”

The experience was both debilitating and transformative. “I remembered Manto and wrote about how I felt the pain of Manto,” says Abbas, a touch dramatically. “If you are a writer or journalist and you experience jail, you understand the importance of freedom. I had it when I was writing; when it is stopped, you realise the importance of maintaining it. It’s not only your struggle, but a struggle of humanity.”

Though he lost his job, was pilloried at the time by the Urdu media, and still faces the censure of conservative Muslims, he now has more enthusiastic readers, he believes. “Now my writing has been accepted in a big way. Urdu readers are not that narrow minded,” he says. “They are openly reading and I am happy when young people appreciate the work which the previous generation had condemned.”

Abbas taught at a Muslim institution for several years and was also the principal of one. He later decided to leave academia and joined a think-tank fulltime in 2012. “If you are liberal Hindu, you won’t work in an RSS shakha,” he says of leaving that minority institution. “It is very conservative. Through education, they want to promote their religious ideas. I believe education should be 100 per cent secular; there shouldn’t be any discussion on religion. But now both communities are insisting on preaching religion and morality, and that is antieducation, anti-scientific temper.”

In 2015, Abbas joined the awards return protests initiated by authors disturbed by the silence of institutions and the apathy of the Government to violence against free thinkers. Like many writers and intellectuals, he too is concerned about what he perceives as the shrinking space for dissent in the country and the rise of divisive politics. “The right-wing is gaining. And only because it is doing the same ugly, dirty propaganda and dividing people in the name of religion,” he says. “There is a feeling that Dalits, Muslims, Christians, Adivasis can be targeted. Yes, there is a fear. And people should speak up.”

source: http://www.openthemagazine.com / Open / Home> Salon > Web Exclusive: Books / by Bhavya Dore / September 21st, 2018

The Ghazi of Peace

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

Bahraich, UTTAR PRADESH :

Shahid Amin, one of India’s most creative and learned historians, explores Indian syncretism through the legend of an 11th century warrior-saint.

Dargahs such as the one in Ajmer (above) and Bahraich symbolise India’s syncretic heritage. Vishal Srivastav
Dargahs such as the one in Ajmer (above) and Bahraich symbolise India’s syncretic heritage. Vishal Srivastav

Book- Conquest and Community: The Afterlife of Warrior Saint Ghazi Miyan

Author: Shahid Amin

Publication: Orient BlackSwan

Pages: 348

Price: Rs 850

Three decades ago, the historian Shahid Amin wrote a brilliant piece, ‘Gandhi as Mahatma’, which is in many respects the locus classicus of what became the subaltern school of Indian history. What he offered was far more than what is ordinarily called “history from below”, showing that the masses made of Gandhi what they could, stepping outside the role habitually assigned to them by nationalist historiography. The Mahatma, Amin suggested, had been metamorphosed into a floating signifier.

In the present work, Conquest and Community, which cements Amin’s reputation as one of India’s most creative and learned historians, he extends this mode of analysis and turns his attention to Salar Masud or Ghazi Miyan as he is more popularly known, a warrior saint whose cult appears to have been well established by the 14th century.

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The story of Ghazi Miyan begins, we may say, with Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni, whose name is calculated to turn the middle-class Hindu into a figure of rage: this early 11th century warrior made repeated incursions into India, “utterly ruined the prosperity of the country” and desecrated the shrine of Somnath. Folklore would inscribe a place for Salar Masud as Mahmud’s nephew, though contemporary records make no mention of such kinship, and representations of him as a warrior taking up arms on behalf of his uncle until he was felled in battle in 1034 against a confederation of Hindu kings began to proliferate.

More surprising still is the fact that the Ghazi was transformed into a Sufi saint, the extent of whose following and reputation might be gauged by the presence at his dargah of Mohammad bin Tughlaq, the Sultan of Delhi. Abdur Rahman Chishti’s 17th century hagiography, Mirat-i-Masudi, would displace Mahmud with Miyan Ghazi. To this day, the cult of the 11th century Indo-Turkic warrior saint thrives in north India, and Hindus and Muslims continue to be drawn in large numbers to his dargah at Bahraich.

Just how is it that the popular assent to the cult of Ghazi Miyan was garnered across the religious divide, and that too with respect to a figure associated in educated Hindu minds with the image of the rapacious Muslim invader? Amin says rather modestly that his “book eschews definitive explanations” and that he is not interested in asking why a 17th century Sufi wrote the text “at the time that he did,” or why “Hindu castes felt no compunction in installing a Muslim warrior on their domestic altar”.

He sets out, rather, to explore those aspects of the Ghazi Miyan narrative which took hold firmly in Gangetic popular culture. This leads him knee deep into some extraordinary anomalies. The commonplace view of Muslims in India renders them as beef eaters, but the Ghazi Miyan of folklore is a protector of cows, the saviour of oppressed cowherds, and a determined foe of the landlords who claimed as their prerogative the right to impregnate the virgin daughters of the Ahirs. In a similar vein, the ballads celebrate the story of the married Brahmin woman, Sati Amina, at whose home the sandalwood tree has dried up.

The family priest avers that the tree will regenerate upon the Ghazi’s arrival — and so it does. In gratitude, Amina washes the feet of the Ghazi and his followers, the Panchon Pir, and then serves them a lavish meal. What could be more violative of the social order than for a Brahmin woman to cook for a Muslim man? Yet, as the very name Sati Amina signifies — Amina is the Prophet’s mother — this is a story about in-between spaces and the risks (and pleasures) of transgressive and forbidden acts.

By the 19th century, as Amin shows, the cult of the Ghazi had become a source of acute anxiety to British, Muslim, and Hindu elites alike. Colonial ethnographers and officials had set out to clearly differentiate “Hindu” and “Muslim” communities, and the presence of a large number of Hindu worshippers at the sites associated with the Ghazi was immensely bewildering to them. On the specious ground that Bahraich was a “cosmopolitan” site and therefore not deserving to be characterized as a special religious endowment of the Muslims, the British sought to bring the dargah under their control and pocket the considerable donations left by devotees.

To the Ashraf or Muslim elites, their low-class and illiterate brethren who consorted with Hindu devotees were little better than idolaters, and the Muslim clergy had no difficulty in attributing the ignorance of Muslim devotees to their frequent social intercourse with Hindus. The zealots of the Arya Samaj and Hindu revivalists expressed alarm that “their” women were willing to surrender their dignity before a Muslim warrior saint, all too often in the hope of gaining male progeny. Such had been the consummate nature of Muslim dominance that, in Amin’s marvelously elegant and provocative rendering of the revivalist view, Hindus “partaking of holy unction” at “the altars of Muslim saints” were “virtually ingesting the leftovers from their Muslim neighbours’ kitchen.”

Few questions have animated Indian historiography, and discussions in the public sphere, as much as the relations between Hindus and Muslims. Amin’s study is a signal contribution to this literature, and he is particularly enlightening in his suggestion that while we cannot be dismissive of those who have posited a syncretic Indian past, it behooves us to view syncretism not only as a narrative of pluralism and accommodation but also in equal parts as a story of agonism, conflict and clash. His masterful study argues that while our narrative understanding of the Ghazi Miyan saga cannot stop at viewing him as “just a conqueror”, it must also contend with the fabrications and the verisimilitude engendered by local histories, ballads and folklore.

In what Amin calls “the quotidian culture of north India” reside perhaps our best hopes for neutralising those who would seek to homogenise the Indian past in the vain and dangerous quest to create the patriotic and “new Indian national”.

The writer is professor of history, University of California

source: http://www.indianexpress.com / The Indian Express / Home> Lifestyle / by Vinay Lal / October 10th, 2015

Book on role of Muslims in freedom movement

Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Community Involvement / Social Issues, Freedom Fighters (under research project), , , ,

Trichy, TAMIL NADU :

To commemorate 150th year of `Sepoy Mutiny’

Tiruchi  :

To commemorate the celebrations of 150th year of the `Sepoy Mutiny’ described by historians as the first war of Independence in India, the Institute of Objective Studies, New Delhi, will bring out next year, a book on the `Role of Muslims in Freedom Struggle’ focussing on the participation of freedom fighters belonging to the Muslim community in various struggles and their contribution in making our country free from the clutches of the British rule.

Divided into six chapters, the book will narrate the sacrifice of Muslims all over the country. Each chapter pertains to a cluster of the then Presidencies comprising a few states.

A team of professors and research assistants, led by one author, has been working on the book, identifying the descendants of Muslims who had participated in the freedom struggle.

The sixth chapter comprises three States, Tamil Nadu, Kerala and Karnataka. Details about contribution to the cause of freedom movement by Muslim freedom fighters hailing from these States are now being compiled by J. Raja Mohammed, former Assistant Director of Government Museums.

“I adopt a four-pronged strategy for compiling the data and details about the freedom fighters. Interviewing the family members, collection of details from the Madras Achieves, verification of fortnightly reports sent to the British Collectors between 1857 and 1947, and above all press clippings from newspapers including The Hindu , The Mail and Swadesamitran and a few Muslim journals, to present an authentic chapter in the book,” Dr. Raja Mohamed told The Hindu here on Wednesday

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> National> Tamil Nadu / by M. Balaganessin / March 23rd, 2006

‘Sringaramanjari’: Where oceans of culture meet

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

Hyderabad, TELANGANA :

An aerial view of the graveyard
An aerial view of the graveyard

The pages of this Sanskrit trestise eschew a story of timeless love, passion and the strife it accompanies

Misrigunj is one of the old city areas of Hyderabad where it is easy to get lost as the lanes and bylanes double back and are in no particular order. Even a compass will be of little use, forget about online maps. In one of the lanes that lead on from one of the biggest domes in the city is the grave of Syed Kalimullah Hussaini or, as he was known in his lifetime, Akbar Shah. Walking in the lanes and standing near his grave in Misrigunj, it is difficult to imagine that the young man wrote a Sanskrit treatise on love, heroines and their moods called Sringaramanjari. The treatise on the many moods of love begins with a Guru stuti.

Guru Ganapati Durga Vatukam Shivamachutam

Brahmanam Girijam Lakshmim Vanim Vande Vibhoteye

If Akbar Shah wrote the Sringaramanjari, credit has to be given to Sanskrit scholar Venkataraman Raghavan for resurrecting the book based on two manuscripts and giving insights into the life of Akbar Shah or Bada Akbar. Raghavan became curious in 1943 when he saw a Sanskrit manuscript in Government Oriental Library, Mysore. Using other material from Tanjore Library, Raghavan published a book with an exhaustive introduction leading to the adaptation of the work for Bharatanatyam and Carnatic music.

To understand how a book on love written in Sanskrit by a Muslim scholar living in a Sufi khankah came to be written about in the latter half of seventeenth-century Hyderabad would be a challenge. Akbar Shah was the son of Shah Raju Qattal who traced his lineage back to Gesu Daraz credited with bringing Sufism to Deccan. Akbar Shah grew up in his father’s khankah along with another young boy: Abul Hasan, or as Shah Raju called him Tana Shah(young king).

Painting of Akbar Shah
Painting of Akbar Shah

The lines of religion and language in Deccan were like lines drawn in the sand. It was in Deccan that a king moved his capital from Gulbarga down south to Bidar where the linguistic boundaries of Kannada, Telugu and Marathi met. The language and court practices were a blend of the Persian world and those from the native kingdoms. The taj worn by kings became the colourful pugree in course of time.

It is in this flexible world that a Muslim scholar could sit inside a Sufi khankahat the feet of his father and write a work that dwelt at length about the fickleness of love, heroines, beauty and attraction. If the love of your life is angry, Sringaramanjari has a recipe to solve the problem. It suggests a time and a place with a romantic mood like spring and moonlight. It also gives six ways to win over the love: pleading, gift, winning over her friends, indifference, falling at her feet or changing the circumstances.

One of the topics that Akbar Shah ponders is whether a courtesan is capable of real love and after much deliberation concludes that she has love for one person but feigns love with many so that she can carry on her life.

Unfortunately, Akbar Shah died young. Raghavan uses evidence in the book as well as a firman issued by Aurangzeb to prove that he died before 1675. Much before his playmate, Abul Hasan could rise to the pinnacle of giving one final burst of cultural efflorescence.

The mazar (grave) of Akbar Shah is in a much better shape now than it was in 1949.“People still come here and spread flowers,” says the mutawalli of the dargah of Shah Raju Qattal.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Serish Nanisetti / September 03rd, 2018

Sayyid Ahmad Khan’s 19th-century books on the pre-1857 monuments of Delhi are now in English

Arts, Culture & Entertainment, Books (incl.Biographies - w.e.f.01 jan 2018 ), Leaders, Travel & Tourism, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

DELHI :

In the two volumes of ‘Asar-us-Sanadid’, Sir Sayyid combined anecdotes with rigorous measurements and descriptions.

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Introducing Asar-us-Sanadid

by Rana Safvi

Asar-us-Sanadid by Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan is an important book for many reasons. It was the first time that a book on this scale describing Delhi’s monuments had been written. The first volume was published in 1847 and a second volume in 1854. Though both had the same name and were about Delhi, they were very differently written. The first was an anecdotal description of the buildings, while the second took a more scientific approach with historical references, and the dimensions of the monuments.

It was also the first time in India, that a book had lithographically produced illustrations. As many as 130 illustrations of Delhi’s monuments were drawn by Faiz Ali Khan and Mirza Shahrukh Beg. The drawings were probably based on rough sketches provided by Sayyid Ahmad Khan himself. He made many sketches – a fact he mentions in the book – and also copied the inscriptions on each of the monuments, often at great risk to life and limb, as in the case of the Qutub Minar, where he hung down from the top of the minaret in a basket held by ropes. It was the first time that inscriptions on the buildings were noted down.

Asar-us-Sanadid is an invaluable work. Both editions – Asar-1 and Asar-2 (published in 1847 and 1854, respectively) – were written before the Uprising of 1857. As is well known, much of Shahjahanabad changed during and in the aftermath of the events of 1857. The British broke down many structures to make governance easier and there was massive restructuring, in particular, of the Red Fort.

Later, when Lutyens’ Delhi was being built, many more changes were brought about, not to mention the changes that are still taking place today. Thus, in his descriptions of the buildings and monuments of Delhi prior to 1857, Sayyid Ahmad Khan gives us a glimpse of lost glory. For students of history and heritage this is where its greatest importance lies.

The partition and transfer of population in 1947 meant that the landscape of medieval Delhi was changed further. Today urban development has resulted in encroachment and destruction or alteration of many more monuments.

Mehrauli is the first documented city of Delhi and it was from here that the Tomaras, Chauhan and early Delhi Sultans ruled. As it was a hilly and wooded area it become a favourite of the Mughals too, with the last two emperors shifting here during the monsoons. The last Mughal building is the Zafar Mahal, situated in Mehrauli, which was the royal residence during those months.

A unique festival called Phool Waalon ki Sair was also celebrated in the monsoons under the last two Mughal emperors.

The excerpt below describes some of the buildings in Mehrauli.

The Bagh e Nazir is now Ashoka Mission. According to some monks I spoke to there, the family of Nazir Roz Afsun fared very badly in the riots which took place during the partition of India in 1947, and the lone survivor, a young boy, migrated to Pakistan.

In 1948 Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru gave the land as a gift to the famous Cambodian monk Dharmvara Mahathera on behalf of the Indian state for the purpose of opening a Buddhist institute. It was he who founded the Ashoka mission there. It is now the Official Buddhist Mission in Delhi, known as Ashoka Mission.

The Hauz e Shamsi is a poor reflection of what it was, and though the pavilions of the Jharna still stand forlorn, they are desolate. The water is a dirty and stagnant pool and gone are the diving competitions or sliding stones. The mango orchard has disappeared and there are only residences in the area. One can only thank Sir Sayyed for a glimpse into that era when emperors and their consort picnicked here.

Bagh-E-Nazir

This is a beautiful, attractive, verdant and luxuriant garden near the waterfall of Qutub Sahib [in the Mehrauli area]. It is still very well maintained, with blooming flowers and green trees. The buildings around it are still intact and thousands of people come here during the Phool Walo’n ki Sair procession, to enjoy its beauty. The spectacle is as entertaining as though one were at a fair. This garden was built by Nazir Roz Afzun during the reign of Muhammad Shah Badshah. I will write down the verses inscribed on the entrance as they give the date of the construction and name of the builder:

By the orders of Muhammad Shah Adil,
Whose head bears the sacred crown.
He founded this garden near [the shrine and tomb of] Qutub Sahib,
And has adorned it with the flowers of paradise.
It should remain green till the Day of Judgment,
By the Grace of the Holy Quran.
The year of its construction,
Was found to be the blessed date,
AH 1116 in the thirty-first regnal year of Muhammad Shah.

Bagh-e-Nazir | Courtesy: National Archives of India, New Delhi
Bagh-e-Nazir | Courtesy: National Archives of India, New Delhi

A wall surrounds the garden and there are red sandstone buildings of great attraction built all around, within the wall. There is one building in the middle of the garden that is the biggest and best of all the buildings there. Thus I am attaching its sketch here.

Jharna
This is a place for recreation and pleasure; it is exotic and unearthly, elegant and refined, interesting and delightful, happiness-bestowing and heart-pleasing. Qutub Sahib’s waterfall [jharna] is famous for its verdant green trees and reminds one of heaven. Initially, Sultan Firoz Shah had constructed a dam here and the wall of the waterfall is that dam. It is still intact.

He had diverted the excess water of Hauz-e-Shamsi reservoir into Naulakh canal [nala] towards the moats of Tughlaqabad Fort. After some years however, the fort was abandoned and water stopped going to that area. The excess water from the Hauz-e-Shamsi then started flowing into the jungles from this dam and was wasted. Nawab Ghazi-ud-Din Khan Firoz Jung built a tank, water channels, and chutes for the water to flow through. The waterfall is an awesome spectacle and pleases the heart, causing the spectator to involuntarily exclaim in delight. There are various buildings around this waterfall which I will describe here.

Jharna | Courtesy National Archives of India, New Delhi
Jharna | Courtesy National Archives of India, New Delhi

Pavilion on the western side
On the western side, adjoining the wall of the dam stands a pavilion at an elevation of 11 feet and 5 inches. It has three arches, and the waterfall cascades down on it. There is an attractive tank in front of it, into which people jump from the roof of this building. During the Phool Walo’n ki Sair festivities people diving into this tank and swimming in it, make for a huge spectacle. They use various diving styles including somersaulting into the water, they also make a pyramid by climbing onto the shoulders of men standing below until the man at the top of the pyramid reaches tree-branch height. Then those at the bottom dive into the tank and all those on their shoulders plunge into the tank. This is called a “tree dive” [darakht kakudna] or a “wild growth dive” [jhad-jhankar ka kudna].

There are thirteen small water pipes under the roof of this building and water from the waterfall flows down through these, via the pavilion, and into the tank. There is a 3.2-feet wide water chute inside the pavilion which falls from a height of 4.3 feet into the tank. There are niches built under the chute in the pavilion wall, and water flows over lighted lamps that are placed within the niches.

This 25-feet square tank has an opening of 1.7 feet for water to flow into it and is 7.6 feet deep. There is a 22 feet long, 6 feet wide and 3.6 feet deep water-channel, which flows out of this tank in a 5.6 feet cascade and is joined by two smaller cascades from the north and south. There are beautifully carved stone chutes [salami pathar] measuring 3 feet 7 inches, to receive the cascade. The water winds its way down the carvings on the chute creating a mesmerising effect.

The water channel in front of this pavilion is 26 feet long, 6 feet wide and 2 feet deep, while the water channel in front of the smaller cascades is 15.3 feet wide, 2.9 feet wide and 8 feet deep. All the water collects at this point and flows into the jungle. The waterfall passes over all these pavilions and the water channel, and in reality it is a truly spellbinding sight. The sound of the flowing water mingles with the singing of the nightingale, the chirping of doves, peacocks dancing and the sounds of merriment of finely attired men and women. It is a mesmerizing scene, which could put Raja Indra’s assembly in the shade.

Pavilion on the northern side
There is a very attractive double pavilion on this side. Muin-ud-Din Muhammad Akbar Shah Badshah built the double pavilion in his reign, around three years ago. These are the most attractive buildings in the place.

Pavilion on the southern side
There is a three-arched pavilion in this area, with two smaller pavilions on its sides which gives it the impression of being five arched. In addition to this there are two doors next to it, thus making it seven arched. This pavilion was built around 50 years ago in the reign of Shah Alam by Shahji’s brother, whose name was Sayyid Muhammad.

Pavilion on the eastern side
There are only mountains on this side and no buildings, but Muhammad Shah Badshah built a stone slide [phisalna pathar] 18 feet 3 inches long and 7 feet 7 inches wide.

The mango orchard
There are many mango trees in this area. People tie swings to the branches and have fun swinging on them. Numerous dancing and singing girls gather here to enjoy themselves. In short, this place is magical and the mind boggles at its attractions. There is also a grave here with the following verse inscribed on it:

Abid who was wise, learned, pious and man of intellect,
Was martyred by a dishonest robber.
The invisible crier told me the chronogram of his death,
The soul of Abid, the martyr entered paradise [in] AH 1209.

Hauz-E-Shamsi
This reservoir [hauz] was one of a kind. Sultan Shams-ud-Din Altamash built it during his reign and that is why it is famous as Hauz-e-Shamsi. Once upon a time this reservoir was made of red sandstone but now all the stone has been torn off and it is just a simple reservoir and that’s why people call it Qutub Sahib’s reservoir, while some still call it Hauz-e-Shamsi. The water from here feeds the waterfall and also fed the moats of Tughlaqabad in olden days.

It is difficult to imagine there is a reservoir of this size on the face of earth. It is spread across 276 bighas [a land measurement] and its water reaches eight provinces [subahs]! The pavilion has been built around the mark of a hoof which people call the hoofprint of the Prophet’s celestial steed Buraq, but to me it seems a made-up story. God alone knows the truth.

Auliya Masjid
On the eastern side of the Hauz-e-Shamsi is a platform and on it another smaller platform about a gaz or so with a small wall. According to legend, Hazrat Khwaja Qutb-ud-Din Bakhtiyar Kaki and other Sufi saints undertook their spiritual retreat/penance [chillah] on it. They built the mosque with their own hands, bringing baskets [of mud from the reservoir] and that’s why it is called Auliya [The Saint’s] Mosque. Now people have plastered it with mortar and lime.

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Excerpted with permission from Asar-us-Sanadid, Sayyid Ahmad Khan, translated and edited by Rana Safvi, Tulika Books.

source: http://www.scroll.in / Scroll.in / Home> Book Excerpt / by Sayyid Ahmed Khan & Rana Safvi / August 31st, 2018