Ruby Lal’s book gives a new life to Nur Jahanas Jahangir’s co-sovereign, a position never held by any Mughal woman
While there may be more than a grain of truth in Jahangir’s devotion to his beloved spouse (it has been the subject of several movies), Nur Jahan’s political acumen and gallantry make her phenomenal career trajectory seem inevitable.
The polemical potential of Ruby Lal’s new book is apparent from its title, even before we get to the text proper. Empress: The Astonishing Reign Of Nur Jahan takes the spotlight away from Jahangir, one of the Great Mughals, to shine it on his 20th and favourite wife, who, as Lal proposes, not only scaled untold heights during his reign but also announced herself to be his “co-sovereign”.
“Scholars have for some time acknowledged her power, almost in bullet points, but never in any concrete way thought through it,” says Lal, who teaches at Emory University in the US, on email. “There is still the tendency in scholarly and other writings to lock Nur’s power in a romantic story with Jahangir: in fact, that romance becomes the explanation for her rise.”
While there may be more than a grain of truth in Jahangir’s devotion to his beloved spouse (it has been the subject of several movies), Nur Jahan’s political acumen and gallantry make her phenomenal career trajectory seem inevitable. Lal begins, for instance, with a spectacular scene of a hunt, in which a musket-bearing Nur Jahan kills a man-eating tiger in Mathura, where the royal cavalcade made a stop on its way to the Himalayan foothills in the autumn of 1619. Nur, 42 at the time, had been married to Jahangir, her second husband, since 1611. It was a fate her parents, Ghiyas Beg and Asmat Begum, could never have foreseen when their daughter, Mihr un-Nisa, was born in 1577 by the roadside outside Kandahar, as they fled their home in Herat.
Hounded out of Persia due to religious persecution, Beg sought Akbar’s patronage in the late 16th century, and it was generously provided. Eventually decorated as I’timad ud-Daula, or the Pillar of the State, by his regal son-in-law, Beg went on to assume the highest rank in Jahangir’s service. His family did well by the Mughal rulers too. Beg’s son, Asaf Khan, would turn out to be the future emperor Shah Jahan’s father-in-law. But it was Beg’s daughter, Mihr un-Nisa, honoured by her royal husband as Nur Jahan, or the Light of the World, who assured him a place in history.
If Nur was exemplary for being the first woman in the subcontinent to exercise direct executive privilege, she was doubly impressive for achieving such a status as a rank outsider. “Remember, she was not a Mughal by bloodline,” says Lal, “not like Queen Elizabeth I (of England) or Queen Christina (of Sweden), who were from royal families.” Nur’s elevation, in the context of her times, was certainly unprecedented, though women in the Mughal harem, especially the elders, often did act as confidantes, advisers and counsellors to the emperor.
Gulbadan Banu Begum, Babar’s daughter and Akbar’s aunt, and Hamideh Begum, Akbar’s mother, were matriarchs to reckon with. Nur’s mother, a lady of refinement and education, was credited with the discovery of an itar (perfume) while boiling petals to make rosewater. But no one went as far as Nur, who made appearances on the imperial balcony, issued firmans (orders) and had coins embossed with her own image—all of which were kingly prerogatives. A skilled marksman, Nur would also lead an army later in life in a failed attempt to rescue Jahangir when he was held hostage by one of his aggrieved officials.
Although the Mughal harem has claimed the attention of scholars, Ira Mukhoty’s recent feminist history, Daughters Of The Sun: Empresses, Queens And Begums Of The Mughal Empire, breathed fresh life into it, making it accessible and emotionally absorbing to the common reader. Lal’s book, replete with research but also narrated with a sense of drama befitting a novel, complements it beautifully.
With the paucity of first-person testimonies from the women of the era, it is not surprising that much of the narrative of Empress is pieced together from observations left behind by Nur Jahan’s contemporaries in the footnotes and interstices of archival documents. “The records are plenty and rich,” says Lal, emphatically, “it’s how you approach the courtly documents, paintings, poetry, coins, architecture, and even legends.”
The British diplomat Thomas Roe, for instance, who visited Jahangir’s court to woo him for exclusive trading rights, was piqued by Nur’s bossiness. But her charisma, intelligence and stately demeanour didn’t escape him. “Noormahel fulfils the observation that in all actions of consequence in Court, a woman is not only always an ingredient, but commonly a principal drug of most virtue,” he noted, “and she shows that they are not incapable of conducting business, nor her self void of wit and subtlety.” It’s not hard to imagine why tales were spun around Jahangir’s early infatuation with Nur, since the days he was Prince Salim. Some chroniclers even claim that young Mihr was married off to a fellow Persian nobleman, Ali Quli, to keep her away from the smitten crown prince.
Yet it would be patently unfair to reduce Nur’s influence to her “womanly wiles”. As an astute observer of court politics, she played her hand shrewdly. Initially, she forged an alliance with the ambitious Prince Khurram (later Shah Jahan), but then Nur got her only daughter, Ladli Begum (by her first husband), married to the younger Prince Shahryar, hoping to push the latter for the throne. With Jahangir’s health worsening due to his addiction to alcohol and opium and civil wars breaking out between factions of the royal family, Nur became increasingly anxious about her hold over the palace. The last straw was the ascension of Shah Jahan to the throne after Jahangir’s death when he stripped Nur of her privileges. She was packed off to live on a modest pension away from the court. In exile, too, she conducted herself with the dignity and grace suited to her station as a noblewoman. Known for her philanthropic work for the poor, she also built a tomb for her parents in Agra that would become the model for the Taj Mahal.
Nur Jahan was neither a Machiavellian dissenter nor a feminist rebel, as Lal writes tellingly. She seemed to have accepted the “emphatically patriarchal” norms of her time, the rules of the feudal, aristocratic world she spent her life in. “I do not believe feminist history should be one in which the woman is always a winner,” says Lal. “It is (rather) what she does, and how effectively she does it, despite all odds. Vulnerability is feminist history.”
source: http://www.livemint.com / Live Mint / Home> Lounge> Leisure / by Somak Ghoshal / August 31st, 2018
Of History and Gastronomy: Ira Mukhoty at Jaypee Vasant Continental’s Paatra restaurant in New Delhi | Photo Credit: SHIV KUMAR PUSHPAKAR
From the resilience of Khanzada Begum to the food habits of Akbar, author Ira Mukhoty reveals many Mughal secrets over a lavish vegetarian meal
Those who suffer from colonial hangover or know their Mughals through movies have an exotic notion about the haramam or harem – a place where many women were housed to please the most important man in the empire. Author Ira Mukhoty, who scans history and mythology to find the status of women in India, counters the perception through a well-argued book, “Daughters Of The Sun” (Aleph). “This idea of ‘oriental harem’ came through the British historians because they had a long association with Islam right from the times of crusades. For them, the Mughals, the Sultans and the Tughlaqs were all the same – part of one Islamic marauding entity. The idea was completely false.”
The whole harem space, she says, evolved from the time of Babur, who wanted his women to be well-educated and was pragmatic about women who ‘fell’ to an enemy. “Over a period of time, when Mughals absorbed some elements of Rajput culture, it became a little different but even then it was completely alien to the oriental idea of a sexual space. Most of these women were in no way sexually available to the Padshah. The harem had relatives, other noble men’s wives; there were servants and attendants…there was a huge collection of women but not to please the emperor,” says Ira, as we settle for an elaborate lunch at Jaypee Vasant Continental’s Paatra restaurant.
The catalyst came from Ira’s previous book, Heroines, where she wrote about powerful women in myth and history. “One of them was Jahanara Begum. I was interested in finding more women like her associated with the Mughal empire.” She found many. But the one story that is most compelling is that of Khanzada Begam, the sister of Babur, whom he left behind with Shaybani Khan as war conquest when he escaped from Samarkand. She remained with Khan for ten years but remained true to her brother’s cause. And when she eventually returned to Babur’s household, her sacrifice and resilience was celebrated. “In fact, she went on to be anointed Padshah Begum of Hindustan during Humayun’s reign,” says Ira.
Powerful women
Women are a neglected lot in our history. Ira says this is not specific to our country. “Around the world, women stories are neglected to a smaller space – it is not just about Mughals or India. You first talk about the kings and and rajas. Women were treated like wallpapers. It is not that I have found something special here. The resources have been there but they have seldom been used to join the dots. For instance, Gulbadan Begum’s biography of her father Babur and brother Humayun was translated from Persian into English in 1907.” She reminds how Jahanara Begum wrote about her Sufi masters in two books. “Her lines are very powerful and erotically charged for Sufis believe in erotic love as means for union with the divine. A 17th Century Muslim woman writing such a powerful language is extraordinary.” Ira has tried to find out first hand information about these women who engaged in diplomacy and patronised the arts. “ I have written about Mughal women who were highly educated, who advised emperors and traded with foreigners. Babur saw them as symbols of Timur legacy. He wanted them to engage in verbal repartees and write poetry.”
Ira says her study of royal firmans reveal that Jahanara Begum asked for permission to go for Haj but it was denied. “Years before her, Gulbadan Begum had made the famous journey that lasted seven years. But by the time of Jahanara, royal women were not encouraged to take this hazardous journey. But she did make a request. I looked at the date and it was one month after her sister Roshanara Begum had died. I wondered that did something come over her.” It is her ability to join these dots that makes Ira’s work much more engaging and accessible than academic works by the likes of Prof Ruby Lal, whom Ira has extensively quoted.
“I try to find a thread between these stories to make fully-rounded characters. With women’s stories you get that sense. However, I tell the reader where I am not sure and am talking about possibilities.” Ira, who studied Immunology in Cambridge University, says her science background has always helped her in research. “It gives me patience. History brings subtlety and nuances which interest me much more. Science is no good for that,” she chuckles. Having said that, she doesn’t believe in speculating. “You should tell the reader where you are not sure even if it breaks the rhythm of the story. If I say it could have happened, I expect the reader to make his own mind.”
A vegetarian these days, Ira undertook ‘walks’ to the Walled City to understand the fragrances and the language of the time gone by. “They might not help you with facts, but they definitely help in writing about a past whose remains are very much part of our ecosystem.” As she appreciates the lavish spread at Paatra, she remembers the meal she had at the Nizamuddin dargah.
Introduction to ghee
Ira hasn’t written much about the Mughal kitchen but she has mentioned some instances which give us an idea of what was cooking. For instance, she captures Humayun’s exile in Persia with Hamida Banu Begum after the embarrassing defeat to Sher Shah Suri. “At one point they were actually cooking horsemeat to survive. But when they went to Persia, they were greeted as kings. Suddenly, the meal changed from fibrous, overcooked horsemeat to the amazing food that the Shah would offer them. When they were leaving, Shah Tahmasp wanted a banquet in Hindustani fashion prepared by his guests. What he liked the most was something called dal khuske which was like matar ka pulao. He tasted ghee for the first time as Persians used to cook in fat.”
Over the years, Mughal food became more and more refined. “There came a time when hens were massaged so that the chicken would be soft and tender. Akbar was a frugal eater who used to have just one meal a day but the time for it was not fixed. At any given time around 100 dishes were kept almost ready for him so that they could be served to the emperor at a short notice.”
Ira, who is now working on a biography of Akbar, says the emperor turned vegetarian under the influence of his Rajput wives. “Luckily for us, we have the Akbar’s biography of Bada’uni. He was a conservative person and his account is not glowing with praise like that of Abu’l-Fazl’s. He could not do what Akbar expected of him. He wrote the biography in secret and it was published during Jahangir’s rule. It is fascinating because it tells truthful things about Akbar. He writes that Akbar is so influenced by his Rajput wives that he gave up meat and indulged in Hindu rituals.” Similarly, she says, Gulbadan Begum’s account is very honest in comparison to a male biographer because she is not looking for building an image for posterity. “She writes very candidly like she explains why Humayun was very angry one day. He believed in astrology and always made the journey when the stars were in right alignment. One day he told the women in harem that they would go on an expedition at such and such time. Unfortunately, his new wife fell off the horse. It took her some time to get back. He got furious. He said he would need some opium to calm down. A male biographer would not have put all this but Gulbadan mentions all these intimate details so that we would know the man not just as a king and a conqueror but also as a father, a husband and a son.”
Ira has emerged at a time when Akbar’s legacy is being questioned and anecdotal history is gaining currency in mainstream discourse. She says hers is not a political book. “I am not trying to push any agenda. However, in this atmosphere, it is not unimportant to hear these stories also to clear many of the prejudices that we may have had. When things remain in anecdotal form, it is easy to manipulate them.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Society> History & Culture / by Anuj Kumar / August 31st, 2018
Bijnor, Rohilkhand (Mughal Empire) / BRITISH INDIA :
On India’s independence day we remember a forgotten hero from our history
Bakht Khan: Winner of a lost battle
Second of July 1857, a hot humid day some one hundred and fifty-five summers ago, a contingent of about 250 men in their Bareilly regiment uniforms arrives in Dilli of the time, the world renowned Red Fort to be precise. Mounted on their horses, they march past the Laal Purdah [1][entrance to the private chambers of the last Mughal King]. The General of the regiment marches too albeit without the customary bowing down of his head; much to the outrage of those present at the court. But what happens next would seem rather more sacrilegious. That unbending commander of the arriving regiment, a tall and corpulent man of Rohilla stock appears least caring about the sensation he creates and the protest that comes his way, he moves forward and ‘salaams’ the King as if he is an equal.[2] But the King, Zille Sub-haani, Khaleefatur Rehmani, Khudawand e Majaazi, Hazrat Abul Zafar Sirajuddin Bahadur Shah Zafar is helpless.
The man in the eye of this little storm was General Bakht Khan, Commander of the Neemuch brigade, of the Army of East India Company, among the true heroes of 1857, who had arrived to make a fight against the Company which till now he had served.
General Bakht Khan’s bust in Red Fort museum.
He was described as “a much garlanded and battle hardened veteran of Afghan wars, with huge handlebar moustache and sprouting sideburns…. Known personally to several of the British officers” [3] His reputation as an able administrator and a shrewd military strategist had reached Delhi much before his arrival.
The poor Mughal King, after much reluctance, decides to award the just landed General ,a royal sword and a buckle but Bakht Khan still refuses to present the ‘nazar’ (a mandatory monetary gift to be offered to the King) when meeting him. Soon after, this Khan then begins to give a piece of his mind to the king, he begins, “Your good for nothing princes [sons] enjoy full powers over your military. Give all the power to me as no one else but I know the norms of the English army, who knows them better than me?” This was blunt and undiplomatic at its best, but the man in question, meant business. He was duly appointed the Governor General of the army, effectively displacing Mirza Mughal the headstrong son of Zafar.
Reading literature about 1857 revolution became quite an obsession with me since a teenager, our shared history of the sub-continent, India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. A familiar heritage we possess, a common thread running through our past. History is journalism with hindsight and this special journalism about 1857 period transports us to a novel world inducing in us a sense of déjà vu. It was through these readings that I ‘discovered,/em>’ Bakht Khan. But it was not love at first sight; I must tell you, what with his being a man with a pot belly that did not make him a fine horseman! Add to it the derision he was subjected to contemptuously for the reason of his being a Wahabi. But more surprising were the contradictions that I began noticing in various descriptions about him. A few, mostly historians from the east, respected him as one of the bravest soldiers and the real hero of 1857 Ghadar while the rest seem to scorn him just for being a Wahabi. This term in itself is quite controversial, even today, just as it was in those days.
Wahabism is the name given to Islamic philosophy instituted by Muhammad ibn Abdul Wahab Najdi[1703-1792] in 7th Century Arabia; the intention was to practice Islam it in its purity just as Prophet Muhommad (peace be upon him) did. William Dalrymple elaborates General Bakht Khan‘s Wahabism thus, “Like a Wahabi ,” he says, “Bakht Khan disdained earthly rulers, whom he regarded as unIslamic, and longed instead for a properly Islamic regime.” [4] He cites his Wahabist thoughts to be a cause of his failure. Interestingly , Bakht Khan fought under a king who was the embodiment of everything a true Wahabi abhors.
What is astonishing is that in almost every account about the man, his being a Wahabi is essentially stressed, perhaps to draw attention to his real or imagined fanaticism. Some of the earlier prominent revolutionary figures like Syed Ahmed Shaheed and Shah Ismaeel Shaheed were self-proclaimed Wahabis. Let’s see what Bakht Khan‘s Wahabism was like.
His Wahabism was said to have been inspired by his spiritual mentor, Moulvi Srafaraz Ali, a master teacher of Algebra and Geometry and with a thorough knowledge of Tafseer[Quranic interpretations] and Hadeeth [Prophet Muhammad‘s sayings]. Moulvi Sarfaraz Ali was entitled as Imam of Mujahideen and his orations exhorted people to join this revolution. It was he who had motivated his initially reluctant disciple Bakht Khan to join this momentous struggle. In the pre- revolution time, Moulvi Sarfaraz Ali was regarded as one of the brightest jewels in Delhi’s intellectual crown, by no less than Sir Sayyed Ahmad Khan himself. So it was Moulvi Sarfaraz Ali who urged Bakht Khan to fight against the infidel Christians for the honor of his country. Interestingly this ‘accusation’ of his being a Wahabi also betrays probable renaissance Islamic nature of the revolution of 1857.
Being a Wahabi, Bakht Khan was against the veneration of Sufi shrines, which was/is quite a rampant practice among a large section of the Indian Muslims. The Wahabis disapprove of it as being nearer to idol worship and a tendency picked up from their Hindu brothers. What is important to be noted and not to be overlooked is; this Wahabism of Bakht Khan and his mentor Moulvi Sarfaraz Ali was borrowed not from Abdul Wahab Najdi of Saudi Arab but from Shah Waliullah Muhaddith Dehalvi [1703-1762], the father of Islamic reform movement in India. This reform movement aimed at eliminating all non-Islamic innovations and practices from the religion and restoring a strict Islamic monotheism, among Indian Muslims. Shah Waliullah, was the first one to translate Quran into Persian and anticipated many modern, social, economic and political thoughts, such as social reform, equal rights, labour protection, and welfare entitlement of all.
Where is Indian account of 1857 war of freedom?
P.C. Joshi in his work, Inquilab 1857 makes a significant observation about this term, Wahabi. He says that, “The use of the term Wahabi is not at all correct, because the political ambitions and social views of allegedly Indian Wahabis , were not based on Abdul Wahab of Najad but on the man who came before him. He was Shah Waliullah [died:1762]. That’s the reason, some supporters of Islamic renaissance like, Ubaidullah Sindhi [1861-1948], Ghulam Sarvar and [Hakeem]Ajmal Khan have preferred to call themselves as Waliullahi or the followers of Shah Waliullah. But I have maintained this word due to its popular use and historical importance.” [6] His Wahabism thus had Indian roots. Hence despising the Rohella Subedar as a Wahabi is to belittle the efforts he made for a unified fight against our former rulers. It is unfair to the man in question who is among the real heroes of the mutiny. Noted historian Irfan Habib too condemns the practice of labeling and cornering him as a Wahabi and describes Bakht Khan as, “the republican minded commander–in-chief in Delhi, who is most unfairly portrayed as a Wahabi in some modern accounts.” [7]. Wahabi or not, what is important to notice, is that he struggled for unity among the different religious sects and led the Fauj-e-Hindustani and fought for a unified and free India. Barun De admires this General of Bareilly for providing the quintessential unity that was severely lacking among the ranks of the rebels. He terms Bakht Khan a true leader and lauds his efforts at unifying different forces of the time, as worth studying. [8]
My attempt here is to present a brief sketch of this Great General as a figure who, till his last struggled for the dream of a Free and Unified India where harmony among the different ethnic groups was his top priority.
His Origins:
Bakht Khan was of Rohilla [Afghan] stock. His grandfather Ghulam Qadir Khan came to Lucknow to make a living. His father Abdullah Khan, said to be a very handsome man, was married to an Awadh Princess. Bakht Khan was formerly a Subedar in the 8th Foot Artillery at Bareilly and had served the British for over forty years and fought bravely in Afghan wars. He had progressed quite rapidly and was appointed in a high-ranking position there. Interesting to note, is his close friendship with many British officers, under whom he had served and imbibed the art of war. Colonel George Bourcheir was educated in Persian by him, and who describes his tutor as, “very fond of English society …..[and] a most intelligent character.”[9] But quite a few disagreed and called him, a fat guy, socially ambitious and an incompetent horseman, probably the worst insult for a soldier, in those times. His commanding officer, Captain Waddy [BHA], describes him thus, “ He is sixty years of age and is said to have served the Company for forty years; his height 5 feet 10 inches; 44 inches round the chest ; a very bad rider owing to a large stomach and thick thighs but clever and a good drill” [10] When the revolution began he was already in his native town of Bareilly and his fame as a fine administrator and a brave and especially able army commander had spread in the country. He had arrived in Delhi with a huge contingent of 7000 [according to another source, 14000] cavalry and hundreds of infantry and a treasure from Bareilly.
Bakht Khan as an Administrator:
It is indeed quite fascinating to know Bakht Khan’s efforts in trying to enforce some kind of sense and sensibility, onto the madness of loot, plunder and sheer chaos of the Delhi of 1857 uprising. He tried every trick in the book to restore law and order amid that disturbing pandemonium .Munshi Jeevan Lal, [11] the overweight Mir Munshi [Chief Assistant] of Resident of Delhi, Sir Thomas Metcalfe [who was working as a British spy, describes how General Bakht Khan went about restoring order amidst that unprecedented anarchy spread after the arrival of the rebels, in the capital. It’s a human thing to love admiration; but when it comes from the enemy, it becomes doubly significant.
Munshi Jiwan Lal in the notes to his British Masters appreciates measures taken by Bakht Khan. There were to be no taxes on salt and sugar, looting [by the just arrived rebel soldiers]had to be stopped else their plundering hands would be cut off, shopkeepers were to be given full protection and even encouraged to use weapons[if they had none, then would be duly provided from the state armory], soldiers were to be removed from the Dilli bazaars as it created difficulties for the general public and relocated in camps outside Delhi gate, their salaries were to be restored and promises of jagirs were made to them in return of their services to the army. He further informs that the General’s men had also killed three spies working for the British [M.Baqar Ali, father of Muhammad Husain Azad, the famous Urdu writer, too, had complained in his first report that, he is followed by the spies of Bakht Khan wherever he goes,[12]
The Metcalfe’s Munshi tells his masters that General Bakht Khan was soft spoken to his men but also remained firm that, they should not cross their line of duty even in the smallest measure. Impressive army parades were conducted by him from Delhi Gate to Ajmeri Gate. Many important petitions from various kings, Nawabs, Rajas, and officials of courts, were forwarded to the King and replies were received through the office of Governor General Bakht Khan; chief among them were, Qudratulla Khan, Risaldar of Awadh, Khan Bahdur Khan, Rao Tula Ram. A ruqqah was also addressed to the Patiala Rajah, conveying pardon of the King for his faults, many other such instances of accessing the King through the General can be found in different accounts of history. [13] Here he was playing the role of a keen diplomat. His honest and sincere attempts at running the administrative affairs efficiently at court and his diplomacy with the men of importance are discernible from these accounts. The steps he took to restore a sense of sanity in those insane times are evidently commendable but somehow go unnoticed by his critics.
Bakht Khan as a military strategist:
The General was a shrewd military strategist. What he achieved at the battle field of Delhi becomes more significant considering the dire circumstances he worked in. He had little support from his own army factions and was constantly attacked and maligned by some hostile elements from within. His strategies on the battle field, his trying to sabotage the passages that took supplies to their camp, invention of rota system and his playing the mind games with the enemy, all are indeed splendid. Richard Barter gives tribute to this great man thus: “Thanks to the system organized by Bakht Khan…..We were scarcely able to stand….” [14] He was speaking, worn out at the battle ground along with his soldiers, thanks to the new General’s machinations. Their frustration grew to the extent that some of the British soldiers seeing no sign of relief wanted to kill themselves on purpose, and some even did.
Be it propelling a contingent to Alipore or setting up a new rota system intended to engage the British forces on a daily basis, and which meant leaving them no respite from the combat, General Bakht Khan always worked on new strategies to defeat his enemy. Soon after his arrival, on the ninth of July he made a massive attempt to destroy the British forces and one of his strategies was to clothe his men in British white uniforms. This took the opponents by surprise and a deep access was gained into their camp. Such regular expeditions by Bakht Khan frustrated the enemy to the extent that, they began losing all hope of capturing Delhi again. He succeeded as he knew the British tactics inside out .His long service to them had at last, paid off.
“Mutineers” or Freedom fighters?: Museum at Red Fort continues to insult our heroes by calling them “mutineers.”
But unfortunately the fact that Bakht Khan’s attempts had been gaining success went unreported, unrealized at Delhi court due to the absence of a parallel intelligence system like their adversary had. The British had knit an intricate network of spies throughout the city and at the Red Fort. Reports about every single move of the King, the parleys held at the court, the movements of the rebel forces and their strategies planned for the future attacks, reached the British ears without fail. Many prominent and respected people were on their payroll. But sad to say, no such system was in place, at the other end of the battle camp. W. Dalrymple observes sharply, “The lack of intelligence reaching the city meant that no one among the rebels realized how successful Bakht Khan’s tactics were proving” [15] They didn’t know how fragile the British forces had become and what a tremendous pressure Bakht Khan‘s tactics had put on them. Unfortunately this ignorance about his success was perceived to be his seeming failure and this set his detractors buzzing. Mirza Mughal had nursed a grudge since the General caused his removal from the military affairs. Bakht Khan’s undiplomatic ways too didn’t help. He was ruthless enough to ask the princes to keep away from military and administrative affairs as he believed ‘everyone knew that they were good for nothing fellows’. It was but an ugly truth.
Bakht Khan informed the king that Prince Khizar and others were stashing away the taxes collected from the city traders and due to this salaries of the army could not be paid. Prince Khizar was asked to return the booty. The commoners were pleased with him while the Mughal princes vowed vengeance. Undoubtedly Bakht Khan was a man of the world but he was not at all, worldly. He frequently failed to decipher his detractor’s nasty plans and eventually became a victim to their malice.
The Neemuch brigade-his force- was well-known for its valor; but the two of its generals Ghaus Khan and General Sidhari Singh [supporter of Mirza Mughal] parted ways, from Bakht Khan, as they couldn’t digest the fact that, an officer of the similar rank as theirs should get so much importance from the King. During the battles he was left alone to fend for himself. A most ridiculous charge of his being a British spy also came along. All this put him under great pressure and he had to issue a statement denying all these charges. Whether it was failure to capture the army bastions at Alipur, Manali Bridges and the Ridge and almost all the failures were wrongly attributed to the General. Zafar too now was infected with doubt and the devious designs of his foes resulted in Bakht Khan’s removal as Governor General by the end of July. A Court of Administration was established to run the affairs of the Mughal Darbar. The General and his Bareilly brigade kept their distance from it but their assaults grew weaker and the tremendous pressure that he was able to put on the British began to diminish. Dalrymple remarks, “…the end of Bakht Khan’s military system brought instant relief to the British on the ridge”. [16]. It is indeed saddening that such lowly games of selfishness and rivalry did the good General in and ultimately caused the struggle for freedom, a catastrophic damage, giving a boost to the enemy. Richard Barter joyously announced that, “And so, when we were scarcely able to stand, the attacks ceased, as if by a dispensation of Providence, and gave our force the repose they so much needed.”[17]. The one man who possessed the potential for defeating the enemy was thus, rendered impotent.
As no intelligence about the success of the good General’s methods reached the court and Delhites, it led to huge misgivings about his military forays. Resentments, against this good soldier soon began to build up. As mentioned earlier, he was accused of being a British stooge himself. His own colleague from the Neemuch Brigade Sidhari Singh accused him thus. Other former co-workers too were not far behind. Gauri Shankar [who was himself a British spy] and Talyar Khan, on 20th August, arranged for a Sikh to proclaim that Bakht Khan provides all information about the court happenings to the enemy. But the truth was found out and the witness was rejected for his false claims. The General himself issued a public statement denying this in the presence of Mirza Mughal and other army generals.
The ever eternal quintessential factors of jealousy envy and contempt did this great warrior in. Quite perceptibly his disenchantment began to grow. He became more cautious but continued to be at the forefront of the war and the biggest headache for the British. He marched towards Najaf Garh separate from the Neemuch brigade as his own soldiers refused to take orders from him (and resultantly was smashed by their rivals). Like before, the General was unjustly blamed for this fiasco, as well. Nevertheless Bakht Khan still remained defiant. He was unrelenting and rejected Zafar’s suggestion of opening the gates of Delhi, if the British could not be defeated. He elaborated on some new strategies and it was quickly reported by the spies present at the court to the Gora Sahibs. Needless to add this rendered his plans useless. His failures thus began mounting up. Yet he succeeded in defeating the opponents at the Delhi Gate even in those final hours, and kept a strong vigil at the Ajmeri Gate till the last moments of the war.
Despite his failures, more due to the non co-operation of his team than his own faults, what he did achieve was the delay in recapturing of Delhi by the British, as long as he could. The erstwhile Dilli would have been rounded up, quite early in the day, had it not been for the efforts of General Bakht Khan Rohilla.
Memorial for British soldiers at Delhi Ridge. No memorial for Indian soldiers though.
His military achievements despite the hostilities he faced were amazing; be it capturing three hundreds of British horses taking supplies to their masters, or one of his final determined attacks with his Bareilly and Neemuch troops, which forced the British to make a hasty retreat, from Hindu Rao’s house. Bakht Khan’s advance up to the house of Hindu Rao was no mean achievement; it threatened to cut off the British troops from their camp.[18] Had he been supported efficiently by his own people at the time, his success rate would have been much higher. Miyan Muhommad Shafi , in his famous work, Pehli Jang-e-Azadi-Waaqeyaat wa Haqaayeq, blames this sorry state of affairs on the conspiracies hatched against Bakht Khan by the unfortunate and unreasonable Mughal Princes, who conspired against him, unaware of their approaching terrible end. He says, “The courtiers created havoc each and every time and put blame on him for everything going wrong, without providing him with any kind of general support. All this and the corruption at the court and among the army rank and noncompliance of the troops, disheartened this most able of the fighters, Bakht Khan and after being relieved from his various significant positions , he got reduced to taking care of his own original regiments alone. This turn of events and colossal difference of opinions, among the different elements at the court, led eventually to the downfall of Delhi, the arrest of Zafar and slaughtering of his sons, not to mention hundreds and thousands of Delhites being butchered and displaced, forever.”[19] But in the mayhem of 1857 mutiny what was more tragic perhaps, was the ruin of Shehar e Dilli and its uniquely rich Ganga –Jamuni Tehzeeb. It died forever.
It was but for Bakht Khan‘s efforts that the rebel forces cold hold on for a longer period. It is an irony that they all blamed him; his enemies could be found easily on both sides of the divide. When the scene grew bleaker and the British forces entered the city gates, he continued persuading Zafar to join him in the inevitable retreat as the area outside Delhi was still under the rebel control and help could be at hand. The former Subedar in his last ditch attempt, insisted to Zafar, that, the name and status of Mughal King would surely bring victory to the Indians. Never say die spirit of Bakht Khan is here for all of us to see. The fragile eighty year old King Zafar, last descendant of the Timuri lineage had even agreed initially. But schemers like Hakeem Ahsanullah Khan, the court physician and Mirza Ilahi Bakhsh, father in law of Zafar’s deceased heir Mirza Fakhru, superseded the Khan one more time, eventually leading the last Timur to be a hapless royal British prisoner.
At this juncture, Bakht Khan speculated on the reasons of their defeat. He explicated that, their choosing of Delhi as their bastion of the battle was erroneous from the day one. He also faulted the princes and especially Mirza Mughal who’s imprudent handling of the affairs at the battle field did greater damage to the cause. This Prince was the one who possessed no experience of any war and had taken up the cudgels only for bragging about his bravery.[20]
Bakht Khan’s administrative skills added to his superb military zeal had proved to be a deadly combination for the enemy. Alas, his spirit was broken by his own men and he had to retreat and disappeared. There are different theories about his departure. It is said he went to Awadh and fought against the British, one more time. A few others opine that he was killed in a battle and a few more say he escaped to Nepal, never to be seen again. This last version seems more authentic.
The Hindu-Muslim equation of the time and Bakht Khan’s role in it:
In his legendary fight at Delhi of 1857, Bakht Khan’s zealous efforts at maintaining Hindu-Muslim unity are outstanding. More so as he is accused of being a Wahabi; this becomes doubly significant.
A general peace had always prevailed among the Hindus and Muslims of Delhi. Turmoil seemed to brew when Hindu sepoys killed five butchers for slaughtering some cows. The fear of inter-communal clashes strengthened the already existing general disillusionment among the Delhi masses [especially among the Ashraaf or high class people] about the rebellion and the uncouth rebels, popularly called, Purabiya or Tilanga. The British were sitting with their fingers crossed, hoping for a bloody game to begin on the day of approaching Baqrid. They expected violence, as Muslims would slaughter the cow which would anger Hindus as it is deemed holy in their religion. But to the disappointment of the British, Bahadur Shah Zafar himself assured a group of Hindu generals about his intention of banning the practice of sacrificing a cow, with immediate effect. Bakht Khan through his order of 30th July saw to it that this order was strictly implemented. He thundered that whoever was found guilty of slaughtering cow, ox, or buffalo, would be considered an enemy of the state and of the king respectively, and would be punished with death![21]
He didn’t stop at that. He sent out a written proclamation to Delhi’s Kotwal on 31st July and 2nd of August 1857 to the effect that, every morning and evening, it should be announced to the people that this order against cow slaughter should be strictly followed, and anyone found guilty would be severely punished. He also saw to it that an alleged fanatic Moulvi Muhammad Sayyed found enticing people for jihad was reined in. The restraining of the fanatic elements and banning cow slaughter were big steps towards restoring communal peace and harmony, at the time and proved a great boost to restoring trust. Hindu Muslim enmity had to be avoided at any cost, so as not to allow the enemy to make a profit out of it. Bakht Khan made it the central point of his fight and this is admirable.
However the Good General is also blamed for drawing together Delhi ulemas [supposedly against the wishes of King Zafar ]and making them sign a fatwa to urge the Muslims to fight against the British, taking it to be their religious duty. But it must be noted that, it was a call for a mutual struggle, for the honor of the motherland. Barun De makes a valid point, when he articulates, “All listened to the call of dharma or deen. In this sense, Christianity was the symbol of intrusive colonialism, seen as a bourgeois crusade for market globalization, much as it is being seen by neoconservatives today [22) This was something quite remarkable about the 1857 revolution. We can call it a golden period of proverbial Hindu-Muslim harmony.
1857, Ghadar
Here in lies an amazing story of the people, fighting an enemy hundred times stronger than them. These people were the poor, the workers, the weavers, the peasants; all joined hands together to resist the injustice they were subjected to, since last hundred years or so. More admirable is the fact that, despite huge caste disparities, clan conflicts, geo-ethnic varieties and most of all those bona fide religious differences, Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs became united for the cause of India/Hindostan. Esteemed historian Irfan Habib finds this assimilation exceptional. The astonishing fact, he says is that, “…on many occasions largely Hindu contingents elected Muslim officers and, similarly, contingents with a largely Muslim composition chose Hindus as their officers. The fact that this was not anywhere done consciously makes it a particularly notable example of inter-religious solidarity among the Bengal Army sepoys.” [23]
This message of unity in diversity is indeed the most outstanding lesson; we get to learn from 1857 uprising. The little armies from all over India grouping in Delhi to fight under the leadership of a Muslim King, is a grand testimonial in itself. This Muslim King had been a titular figurehead of the erstwhile India, for quite some time, but still thought to be a figure of authority. It was a matter of belief, of faith, for the Indians. They still believed or wished to believe in Bhadur Shah Zafar being Baadshah-e-Hindostan.
At the risk of digression, allow me to drift and explore this phenomenon a bit more. It was a fact that all army contingents, from all over the erstwhile British Raj territories, moved towards Delhi and gathered at the Lal Qilaa to win blessings from a Muslim king. Today this may seem beyond belief but back then, in 1857; it came most naturally to the Indians of the time. William Dalrymple astutely remarks that, “The rip in the closely woven fabric of Delhi’s composite culture, opened in 1857, slowly widened into a great gash, and at Partition in 1947 finally broke into two. As the Indian Muslim elite emigrated en masse to Pakistan, the time would soon come when it would be almost impossible to imagine that Hindu sepoys could ever have rallied to the Red Fort and the standard of a Muslim emperor, joining with their Muslim brothers in an attempt to revive the Mughal Empire.” [24]
It was due to the unmistakable aura that surrounded the Mughal Empire. Bahadur Shah Zafar possessed that unique trait of being a Benevolent Baadshaah who alone had the power of rendering a sense of strong unity among the varied regions and natives of India.
Now coming back to our General, he proved to be a perfect foil to Bahadur Shah Zafar. H.L.O.Garret, keeper of the records of the government of Punjab, in his 1933 account of the rebellion enlightens us that Bahadur Shah Zafar was only a nominal ruler of a dying Delhi; he duly informs, “The actual military operations were directed by Bakht Khan, on whom a royal decree conferred the title of Commander-in –Chief.” [25] C.T. Metcalfe notes that despite Bakht Khan’s removal from his post at the Delhi Durbar, King Zafar trusted him all along and used to urge him to put up a brave fight as before.[26] Bakht Khan’s endeavors in executing the commands of his king at putting up a unified frontagainst the colonizers, is something fascinating. But strangely enough we do not find many mentions to him in our history books.
The year 1857 strikes a resonance in our hearts even after one hundred and fifty five years. We identify with this first war of independence. The Mughal authority had eroded long before this date; but many critics say, what died in 1857 was hope; hope for freedom, for unity. After 1857, India could never be the same again. The unique aura of Mughal Mystique died too in September of 1857. This aura symbolized a most beautiful land, varied and various in so many ways yet presenting an amalgamation so unique so endearingly rich that the world still fails to offer another such prototype. Bahadur Shah Zafar was an unwilling and hesitant hero standing at complete disparity with the General. The General believed in action. It is this action that makes General Bakht Khan Rohilla a True Hero and those among us who wish to dismiss him as just a sundry character, for them let me quote T.S.Eliot here, They know and do not know, what it is to act or suffer,
They know and do not know, that action is suffering,
And suffering is action.
It is action, our striving for it and the resultant suffering that teaches us the ways of surviving/winning life. It is our action, our Karma that makes our destiny.
In this regard Bakht Khan became a winner of the war, despite losing the battle.
—
Asma Anjum Khan is Assistant Professor of English in Maharashtra
Bibliography:
1-Lal Purdah- the Red colored curtain at the doorway to the Mughal king’s private chambers.
2-Memoirs of Hakeem Ahsanullah Khan-p.8
From:The Last Mughal- William Dalrymple, 284
3-Bourchier, Eight Months,44n],from: The Last Mughal, William Dalrymple,285
4-Ibid-286
5-ibid-285
6-Inquilab 1857, P.C.Joshi, Urdu Translation, pub: Taraqqi Urdu Taraqqi Urdu Bureau ,secondedition1983,105[References]
7-Irfan Habib, History from Below- Frontline, issue dated, June 29,2007,pg.16
8-Baun De ,Frontline issue dated ,June 29,2007,Pg 9 (Scholars Iqbal Husain and Rajat Kanta Roy too endorse his views.)
9-Bourchier-Eight Months,44,[quoted in Last Mughal,285]
10- H.L.O. Garret, The Trial of Bahdur Shah Zafar,King by Committee,8[ quoted in Gimlette’s post script to the Indian Mutiny]
11–Metcalfe,Two Native Narratives, Narrative of Munshi Jeevan Lal
12-William.Dalrymple,The Last Mughal,302
13-H.L.O.Garret, The Trial of Bhadur Shah Zafar, The Physician’s Testimony ,[Hakeem Ahsanullah Khan was the royal physician]
14-Barter Richard, The Siege of Delhi,36, The Last Mughal.
15-William Dalrymple-The Last Mughal,292
16-Ibid,294
17- Barter Richard, The Siege of Delhi ,[from:William.Dalrymple, The Last Mughal, 294]
18-William Dalrymple, The Last Mughal,357
19-Miyan Muhommad Shafi,Pehli Jang e Azadi –Waqyaat wa Haqaayeq,Urdu,288-89, edition,2007
20- Ameer Ahmad Alavi,Bahadur Shah Zafar,[Urdu]Lucknow, 1955,138-9,[ through [P.C.Joshi, Inquilab 1857-112-114,Urdu , ed.1983,Taraqqi Urdu Bureau ]
21-Press List of Mutiny Papers, no.120/143, 7 Zilhaj,21-RY,29 July 1857
and
Press List of Mutiny Papers, no.111,[c] 332,8 Zilhajj 21 –RY,30 July,Spear,pg.207 [from Iqbal Husain]
22-Barun De, The Call of 1857,Frontline ,issue dated, June 29,2007,pg.8-9
23-Irfan Habib, History from below ,Frontline issue dated June 29,2007,pg.14
24-William Dalrymple, The Last Mughal, 484
25-H.L.O.Garret, the Trial of Bahadur Shah Zafar, King by Committee, 7
26-C.T.Metcalfe, Two Native Narratives of the Mutiny in Delhi,[1974] 213
The following books helped too in making of this essay:
1-1857 ke chashm e deed Halaat[Almaroof Daastaan e Ghadar]-Syed Zaheeruddin Dehalvi.ed:2006
2-The Other Side of Medal by Edward Thompson, translated by Shaikh Hassamuddin, first edition,1982,Urdu Academy New Delhi Publication
3-Bakht Khan [Marathi]–by Iqbal Husain,2008, National Book Trust ,edition 2010]
source: http://www.twocircles.net / TwoCircles.net / Home> Articles / by Asma Khan for TwoCircles.net / August 15th, 2012
Royal spread:The ‘Khwan Nemat-e-Asafia’ lists 15 types of biryanis such as Biryani Rumi, Biryani Mahboobi, Biryani Nargis, Biryani Hazar Afreen.
The world knows them for fabulous jewels and splendid palaces. But not many know that the erstwhile Hyderabad rulers had a weakness for a rich diet as well.
Sample this: Biryani Dulhan, Yeqni Palou Shirazi, Khorma Murgh, Qhalia Chamkura, Kabab Gul Khatai. A ‘shahi’ spread any which way. If your mouth is doing a tango, you are not to be blamed.
Now, one can try out these dishes. Urdu daily Siasat has stumbled upon a dog-eared copy containing a list of 680 formulae used by the royal kitchenette of the 6{+t}{+h}Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan (1866 – 1911). The newspaper plans to publish the recipes in Urdu and English on art paper shortly. The book, titled Matbaqe Asafia, is expected to hit the market in the next two months.
“It will be in time for Ramzan, the month of fasting,” Siasat ’s Editor Zahed Ali Khan says.
Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are. A look at the recipes and the ingredients that go into making these sumptuous dishes give an inkling of the royal taste — cuisine that is never clichéd. Every formula differs from the other in the set of instructions and ingredients.
The ‘Khwan Nemat-e-Asafia’ lists 15 different types of biryanis such as Biryani Rumi, Biryani Mahboobi, Biryani Nargis, Biryani Hazar Afreen. As the name suggests, the ‘Dulhan Biryani’ is highly decorated with a fried banana in covering of ‘warq’ (silver foil).
Besides, there are 18 kinds of pulav , 16 of khichidi , 48 of do-pyaza , 21 variants of khorma , 45 of kabab and 29 types of naan . Besides, there are 25 varieties of chutneys (condiments) and 33 types of achaar . Apart from an assortment of spices and dry fruits, the ingredients also include a generous sprinkle of perfumes and sandal.
But some of the formulas could be a recipe for sickness, given the heavy doze of ‘pure ghee’ suggested. There are also some recipes, which, if tried now could land one in trouble. For instance, the book contains formulas for cooking animals which now attract provisions of the Wildlife Act. “But we don’t propose to include such recipes since they are banned now”, Mr. Khan says.
So gourmets, get ready for a royal repast.
Come Ramzan and the Siasat daily plans to publish a list of 680 formulae used by the royal kitchenette of the sixth Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> National> Andhra Pradesh / by J.S. Ifthekhar / Hyderabad – May 13th, 2013
In ‘Muslim Women Speak: Of Dreams and Shackles‘, activist-scholar Jamil tries to find these women’s real voices, instead of just presenting them as victims.
Fatima reads her Quran when her alcoholic father goes out for his daily jaunt. In public, the 15-year-old ‘woman’ can always be seen clad in a burqa. Does that make Fatima a devout Muslim or a victim first? She regrets having to drop out of school and take on the extra job of zari making. She quarrels with her mother about it. Is that a suggestion of Fatima’s latent feminism?
Ghazala Jamil’s analytically robust account of Muslim women is infused with voices of young women wrestling with Jamil across various workshops. They are trying to gain control over the narrative of their own lives from the oppressive and hegemonic stereotypes of women as victims. Worse even, the notion that Muslim women are victims of a special kind.
Chiselled over 10 chapters, the development worker, activist and scholar in Ghazala Jamil together fight her battles with scholarship on multiple fronts. As the cover from Baaraan Ijlal’s installation Birdbox suggests, the project tries to uncover and unshackle young Muslim women in discovering their real voices aside from their popular representation of them as victims.
First, Jamil takes on Indian feminists. She criticises their inability to imagine the experience of womanhood in the grips of minoritisation and marginality. By imposing an imaginary ‘universality’, they subsume religious, sensual, intolerant, para-civilised and violent specificities, to conceptualise an ‘Indian sisterhood’. Such broadstroke feminism, she observes, subsequently fails to account for communally charged alienation of Muslims in India.
From there, she directs her attention to methodological failures in academia, journalism and activism. They continually subject Muslims to quantitative enquiries, failing to unravel the qualitative complexities and multiplicities of Muslim lives. This is evident in the obvious lack of theoretical insights into Muslim lives.
This, she charges, is symptomatic of a global malady that tends to imagine Muslims worldwide as a singular category, indolently conflating religion with civilization.
Further, she tries to situate her work on intimate aspirations by trying to tease out a backdrop of national imaginary that forms an alternative to western imperialism. Following Gopal Guru’s arguments, Ghazala Jamil goes on to assert that theory making is a social responsibility. It restores agency to those deemed powerless and therefore is emancipatory, transformative and a political project in articulating an identity.
Jamil disavows the very notion of authentic knowledge and instead chooses to take recourse to Donna Haraway’s “situated knowledge”. She argues that the “worth of being an insider or outsider may be judged in its ability to deliver”. Thus, she adopts a novel method of engaging in workshops with her interlocutors where they play an active part in generating knowledge about their own lives.
In doing so, Jamila manages to excavate her interlocutors’ views on what they imagine as taking action or acts of agency. Within such a field of agency, silence, hesitation, tears and inaction begin to speak as loud as words do. She exposes her readers to a world of experience beyond words; adding rich denseness of experiences or marginality.
It is from this vantage point that Ghazala Jamil begins to delve into the dreams and aspirations, the shame and humiliation of young Muslim women in India. For instance, criticising quantitative studies that reduce aspirations to solely that of socio-economic status, Jamil attempts to broaden the horizon of aspirations to include educational status and career goals of young Muslim women.
The study also goes on to examine the simultaneously impeding and encouraging influence of faith and family attitude, gender roles, intimate relationships, socio-cultural and political milestones on aspirations of these young women.
Yet the cumulative effect of communalism and poverty infected patriarchy is that daughters often tend to grow up motherless. They seek motherly affection and protection in their marriages. This often does not fructify under the effect of communal violence that collides into their lives long after an incident itself.
Arpita Phukan Biswas holds a Ph.D. in Sociology from the Indian Institute of Technology-Bombay.
source: http://www.theprint.in / The Print / Home> Page Turner> Afterword / by Arpita Phukan Biswas / August 12th, 2018
Come Ramzan and the Siasat daily plans to publish a list of 680 formulae used by the royal kitchenette of the 6 Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan
The world knows them for fabulous jewels and splendid palaces. But not many know that the erstwhile Hyderabad rulers had a weakness for a rich diet as well.
Sample this: Biryani Dulhan, Yeqni Palou Shirazi, Khorma Murgh, Qhalia Chamkura, Kabab Gul Khatai. A ‘shahi’ spread any which way. If your mouth is doing a tango, you are not to be blamed.
Now, one can try out these dishes. Urdu daily Siasat has stumbled upon a dog-eared copy containing a list of 680 formulae used by the royal kitchenette of the 6 Nizam, Mir Mahboob Ali Khan (1866 – 1911). The newspaper plans to publish the recipes in Urdu and English on art paper shortly.
The book, titled Matbaqe Asafia, is expected to hit the market in the next two months.
“It will be in time for Ramzan, the month of fasting,” Siasat’s Editor Zahed Ali Khan says.
Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are. A look at the recipes and the ingredients that go into making these sumptuous dishes give an inkling of the royal taste — cuisinethat is never clichéd. Every formula differs from the other in the set of instructions and ingredients.
The ‘Khwan Nemat-e-Asafia’ lists 15 different types of biryanis such as Biryani Rumi, Biryani Mahboobi, Biryani Nargis, Biryani Hazar Afreen. As the name suggests, the ‘Dulhan Biryani’ is highly decorated with a fried banana in covering of ‘warq’ (silver foil).
Besides, there are 18 kinds of pulav, 16 of khichidi, 48 of do-pyaza, 21 variants of khorma, 45 of kabab and 29 types of naan. Besides, there are 25 varieties of chutneys (condiments) and 33 types of achaar. Apart from an assortment of spices and dry fruits, the ingredients also include a generous sprinkle of perfumes and sandal.
Piece of advice
But some of the formulas could be a recipe for sickness, given the heavy doze of ‘pure ghee’ suggested. There are also some recipes, which, if tried now could land one in trouble. For instance, the book contains formulas for cooking animals which now attract provisions of the Wildlife Act.
“But we don’t propose to include such recipes since they are banned now”, Mr. Khan says.
So gourmets, get ready for a royal repast.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Hyderabad / by J.S. Ifthekhar / Hyderabad – May 13th, 2013
In 1859, Delhi’s most famous poet, Mirza Asad Ullah Ghalib, was asked what Delhi was like these days. He replied: “My friend, what a question to ask! Five things kept Delhi alive—the Fort, the Chandni Chauk, the daily crowds at the Jama Masjid, the weekly walk to the Jumna bridge, and the yearly fair of the flower men. None of these survives, so how could Delhi survive?” Ghalib’s despondency notwithstanding, the fair celebrating the monsoon, known as the Phulwalon ki sair or the Sair-e gulfaroshan, started again soon after the turmoil of the Revolt had died down and has survived until the present day.…
What makes the Phulwalon ki sair such a fascinating topic for the exploration of monsoon feelings is the density and variety of commentary it brought forth over the last two hundred years. These sources range from colonial reports to the no less matter-of-fact newsletters from the Mughal court. They include memoirs and essays recalling the world lost in 1857, and texts which depicted contemporary experiences up to the present day. Songs and poems were often included in other texts, but we also have a printed poem from 1876, which praises the joys of the Phulwalon ki sair and was probably meant to be performed during the festival. Together they present a rich image from which we can reconstruct many of the basic facts of the festival, such as who the people were who went to Mehrauli and what they did there. But the sources go further. They allow us an insight into the meaning different participants ascribed to the festival, and even into their emotions. Together they help us understand why Ghalib deemed the festival so important, not only for the identity but for the very survival of Delhi.
Procession with flower fans and musicians playing nafiri trumpets and drums. Illustration by an unknown artist in Mirza Hairat Dihlavi’s Phulwalon ki Sair, 1889.…
The earliest references to the processions can be found in the newsletters from the royal court for 1830. Akbar Shah and his entourage moved to Mehrauli in late July and instructed the flower-sellers to get the pankhas ready for the ceremony at Qutb ud-Din’s dargah. Every day, “His Majesty went to the jharnawith the ladies. He sat in the barahdari, enjoyed the view of the jharna and the bathing of the ladies. They sat on the swing and sang.” Akbar Shah also enjoyed sitting on the platform above the gate of his palace, from where he could watch the bustle of the bazaar and the performance of acrobats. It is from there that he watched the procession of the flower-sellers and the fair, for which numerous crowds of people had gathered.
…
Fazl ud-Din described the traditional references to shringararasa, the clouds, the peacocks, and the koyals, the lushness of the hills and trees that had recovered their greenery, the flowers that burst into bloom, the mangoes and jamuns which were so abundant that they fell from the trees before people could pluck them. This revelry brought together the nobility and the common people, Fazl ud-Din pointed out, the rich and the poor, the owners of shops and the bazaris: no one was left behind in the empty city of Delhi. All the houses were decorated and the food was rich and plenty, while the rain continued to drizzle softly. The emotional experience was mediated through the senses of sight, of touch and of taste, but equally important were the sounds of the festival, the calling out of the shopkeepers, the songs of the ladies, and the musicians accompanying the processions, mainly nafiri trumpets, shahnais and a large variety of drums. Other texts also invoked the presence of an entire naubat, travelling on an open platform.
In Fazl ud-Din’s account, the emotions came to a culmination during the procession, which moved to the temple of Jogmaya on the first day and to the dargah of Qutb Sahib on the second day. The procession was led by the royal musketeers, followed by different professional groups. At the centre, right next to the elephants of the princes, were the flower-sellers and their pankhas, ornamented with a thousand flowers:
Look how packed the street is! People are falling over each other. A sweet drizzle is falling, and a cool wind is blowing. The bleating sound of the nafiris blares loudly. The pleasant forest and the crowd of people! In the evening the pankhas reach the royal palace with a lot of commotion.
…
By the beginning of the twentieth century, the tone of the writings changed. The new generation of authors no longer had a personal experience or even memory of the festival, even before it was discontinued after the first non-cooperation movement. In 1906, we find one Saiyid Bunyad Husain from Aligarh College, writing an article for the ladies’ magazine Khatun. He praised the Phulwalon ki sair as an extraordinary festival without equal, except perhaps for one festival, which takes place every year in Paris, but his knowledge is sketchy. He mused about possible origins of the festival: as it symbolised luxury and pleasure, ‘aish o ‘ishrat, he rules out the later Mughals, as theirs was a period of decline, and finally settled on Muhammad Shah as the probable initiator, as he was known for being inclined to sensual pleasures.
…
The festival at Mehrauli lost its specific anchoring in a time and place and became a symbol for a world that had been lost. The emotions that matter were no longer those of the participants in the procession and the revelries, but the communion of sentiment created between the author and his readers. This changed the tone.
…
A Symbol of National Unity
Nostalgia might have had a critical potential, but a nostalgia that was looking back to the last days of the Mughals and was geared towards a critique not only of colonialism but of modernity seemed increasingly out of tune, certainly with Jawaharlal Nehru’s vision of what independent India would stand for. And still, it was Nehru who in 1961 suggested the revival of the festival, which had been stopped in 1921. He called together a group of influential citizens and public figures from Delhi, who inaugurated the first festival after independence in 1962. What had changed?
The beginning of the 1960s was the period when the new nation increasingly faced the challenges of poverty, internal disruptions and conflicts, between religious communities but also between language groups and states. In this situation “emotional integration,” a felicitous phrase created by Nehru, became the rallying cry:
Political integration has already taken place to some extent, but what I am after is something much deeper than that—an emotional integration of the Indian people, so that we might be welded into one, and made into one strong national unit, maintaining at the same time all our wonderful diversity.
As a festival that was jointly celebrated by Hindus and Muslims, which had already been read as a symbol of Delhi’s tolerance and cosmopolitanism, the Phulwalon ki sair offered vast symbolic potential, and has been patronised by almost all prime ministers since Nehru. Many are the presidents of the republic who have come to deliver speeches at its inaugural function or at least sent messages of support, while the administrative elite of Delhi has always been involved in the planning of the festival and many have participated in some function or other during its three days.
Left: A flower fan carried in the Phulwalon ki sair. Right: Children of qawwals at Quutb Sahib.
The festival, especially during its heyday in the nineteenth century, was an intensive experience for those who participated, involving all the senses at the same time. The eyes saw the beauty of the blossoms and the greenery of the forest, the alluring sight of the ladies and courtesans displaying their fineries and frolicking around the jharnaand the lakes, the decoration of the bazaars, the lights in the evening and the fireworks. The ears heard the calls of the birds associated with the monsoon, the koyal and the peacock foremost among them, but also the songs of the ladies, the blaring of the nafiris and the resounding drums. The skin felt the relief of the cooling drizzle of rain, the embrace of the beloved, the closeness of other bodies during the procession; the tongue relished the abundance of mangoes and the delicacies prepared in the bazaar; the nose took in the smell of rain on the scorched earth, the perfume of the flowers, and the aroma of the food.
…
Looking at the procession over a time span of almost two hundred years also brings out the close relation of emotions and politics—even in this case, which at first sight involved nothing more than coming together to enjoy the rainy season. The Phulwalon ki sairalways was (also) a political statement, though these of course changed through time.
The memoir inaugurates a subgenre as there are hardly any platforms where the Indian Muslim experience has been articulated as clearly as it has been in this book.
ON September 19, 2008, an encounter took place at Batla House, a building in the Muslim-dominated locality of Jamia Nagar in Delhi. In what has come to be known as the “Batla House Encounter”, Delhi Police shot dead two individuals who they alleged belonged to a terrorist outfit. Some civil society activists pointed out that there were flaws in the police’s narrative, leading to allegations that the encounter was staged. This is the event that ties up Neyaz Farooquee’s easy-to-read memoir on growing up Muslim in India. Farooquee was at the time a student of Jamia Millia Islamia and lived close to Batla House. His tryst with his Muslim identity in the wake of the encounter forms the backdrop of the book.
There is no nuanced way to say this, but it is not easy to be Muslim in India. Anti-Muslim prejudice runs deep in Indian society and manifests itself in a variety of ways. In its gentlest form, the Indian Muslim may be casually called “Pakistani” in the most rarefied of spaces, leaving him to cringe silently because of this unfair association with a neighbouring country. In its most savage form, anti-Muslim bigotry leads to horrendous and usually one-sided communal violence with state sanction that leaves Muslims feeling scarred, besieged and vulnerable. In between, there are various degrees of bias and hate that Indian Muslims face on a daily basis all over the country.
In the imagination of early Hindutva ideologues, Muslims are permanent fifth columnists who could never be truly Indian. Going by this credo, the Indian Muslim can be and is held guilty of events across time and space. A Muslim in Bengaluru in 2018 is often held guilty for M.A. Jinnah’s demand for Pakistan, and its eventual formation in 1947, as well as the supposed excesses of Muslim rulers of medieval India.
In the same way, lazy bigotry would also hold him accountable for a violent terrorist attack that takes place halfway across the world. Since the Narendra Modi-led National Democratic Alliance government came to power in 2014, anti-Muslim sentiment has exploded in India and has been institutionalised to a great extent, with prejudicial sentiments being expressed brazenly. A hateful statement (say, by a senior leader of the Bharatiya Janata Party like Anant Kumar Hegde that Islam must be effaced from the earth) that would have earlier caused an uproar only causes a grumpy murmur in Indian society now.
Surprisingly, there is little literature on this theme by Indian Muslims, even though it informs their existence tremendously. Dalits, who are another marginalised segment of Indian society, have a far richer corpus of literature on the experience of leading a discriminated existence. So, what is the responsibility of journalists and writers in such a scenario? As chroniclers of society, they have a certain obligation of writing about the Indian Muslim experience, considering that Muslims are the largest religious minority in India with a population of more than 170 million (according to the 2011 Census).
Farooquee’s memoir is novel in the sense that it inaugurates a subgenre as there are hardly any platforms where the Indian Muslim experience has been articulated as clearly and candidly as it has been in this book. Twin narratives chug the story along. One tells the tale of Farooquee’s early life growing up in a village in Bihar and his journey and life in Delhi, while a second narrative tells the story of his life after the Batla House encounter. Farooquee came to Delhi as a child and enrolled in a school. The book describes how he grew up away from his parents in Jamia Nagar in Delhi and eventually found his feet in the Muslim ghetto. His parents hoped that he would become an Indian Administrative Service officer, but he ended up becoming a journalist. His relationship with his grandfather and his secular world view are described in touching detail. It is heartbreaking to read about Farooquee’s anxiety after the Batla House encounter and of how his life changed, considering the general Indian Muslim distrust of investigating agencies. The murkiness of information about the encounter in the public domain and the contradictory reportage of a media quick to make slapdash conclusions are also dealt with in some detail in the book.
At one point, Farooquee writes: “Jamia Nagar creates a jumble of names, faces and identities, and possibly faulty memories. That memory could be yours, or someone else’s, and if that someone else is, let’s say, a Terror Suspect disguised as a Normal Human Being, you have no idea how is memory is going to behave. It was an alarming thought and it made everyone untrustworthy. Friends, close friends, acquaintances, strangers, everyone.” At another point, he writes about how something as innocuous as travel bags caused him consternation: “The reports also said the Terrorists had many travel bags in their flat, suggesting that they sheltered Terrorist-friends from out of town and were themselves given to travelling to different cities in India to plant bombs. It was as if none of these reporters had lived the life of a middle-class Indian student. My own bag served as a cupboard. Often, there were other bags lying around, from when friends, relatives and acquaintances stayed over—a free dormitory.”
A pall of restrained melancholia hangs over the story, and one feels that the narrative may erupt into something more violent—there is a gory retelling of the brutal killing of an uncle in the Bombay riots of 1992-93—but Farooquee’s story is not about the physical violence of the state but about what it does to the mind. The experience of an Indian Muslim and his constant state of vulnerability is what the memoir is all about. There is some stodginess with which the author articulates this, but that is a matter of style. There is also a lot of trite information which makes one feel that the story could have been told in the form of a long essay rather than a book. Nonetheless, Farooquee writes on an important theme, and hopefully, memoirs with richer stories on what it means to be an Indian Muslim will follow this account.
source: http://www.frontline.in / Frontline / Home> Books / by Vikhar Ahmed Sayeed / Print edition: August 17th, 2018
Many Indian dishes can be traced back, indirectly, to a 16th-century, food-obsessed ruler named Babur.
Babur Being Entertained in Ghazni, from the Baburnama, the memoirs of Ẓahīr al-din Muhammad. PUBLIC DOMAIN
ZAHIR AL-DIN MUHAMMAD, THE 16TH century Central Asian prince better known as Babur, is renowned for his fierce pedigree and proclivities. Descended from both Timur and Genghis Khan, he used military genius to overcome strife and exile, conquer northern India, and found the Moghul dynasty, which endured for over 300 years. He was a warlord who built towers of his enemies’ skulls on at least four occasions. Yet he was also a cultured man who wrote tomes on law and Sufi philosophy, collections of poetry, and a shockingly honest memoir, the Baburnama, in which he appears to us as one of the most complex and human figures of the early modern era.
Through the Baburnama, we learn that Babur was versed in courtly Persian speech and custom, yet nonetheless a populist who built strong ties with nomads and championed the vernacular Chagatai Turkic tongue in the arts. He was a pious man, but was also given to libertine escapades, including massive, wine-fueled parties.
But the first—and arguably one of the most culturally consequential—personal details he reveals is that he was a food snob. Babur loved the foods of his homeland and hated those he found when he had to reestablish himself in India, which to him was mostly a way station on the bloody road back to the melon patches of his youth. He didn’t just whinge about missing foods from home, though. He imported and glorified them in his new kingdom, laying the groundwork for his descendants to warp Indian cuisine so profoundly that they redefined that culinary tradition, as many know it worldwide, to this day.
A depiction of Babur meeting Sultan ‘Ali Mirza near Samarqand, from the Baburnama. PUBLIC DOMAIN
The Baburnama opens with a description of Ferghana, a region now split between Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan, where Babur grew up. Known then and now as the breadbasket of Central Asia, it follows that Babur would touch on agriculture. But in introducing his hometown of Andijan, Babur opens with a note on the quality of its grapes and melons before turning his attention to its layout and fortifications. He then ducks back to praise its game meats, especially its pheasants, which “are so fat, that the report goes that four persons may dine on the broth of one of them and not be able to finish it.” Only then does he tell us of the people who live there.
Almost anytime he describes a place back home, he starts with vittles. Margilan is known for its dried apricots, pitted and stuffed with almonds. Khojand’s pomegranates are proverbially good, but they pale next to Margilan’s. And Kandbadam is tiny and insignificant, but it grows the best almonds in the region, so it’s worth mentioning.
“Early sections of his Baburnama,” writes Fabrizio Foschini, in a report on Afghanistani melons authored in 2011, “really sound like a consumer guide to the fruit markets of Central Asia.”
A detail of date trees illustrated in the Baburnama. PUBLIC DOMAIN
Babur doesn’t forget food once he gets into the meaty war stories, either. He breaks one narrative to note that the area around a castle he just besieged grew a unique melon with puckered yellow skin, apple-like seeds, and pulp as thick as four fingers.
The Baburnama is not solely concerned with food. The bulk of it is a painstaking record of families and feuds, and Babur dwells on other seemingly random details that tickled him, such as a courtier’s talent at leapfrog. Since we don’t have a similarly honest accounting from his peers, it’s hard to say whether Babur’s epicureanism was atypical.
Given the chaos he grew up in, though, it’s incredible that Babur could spare any thought for food. Thrust to power at age 11 (by the Gregorian calendar), in 1494, he had to navigate bloody infighting amongst his relatives. Known as the Timurid princes after their conqueror-ancestor Timur, they jockeyed against each other for regional control. Babur became an active participant in this Central Asian game of thrones—he seemed particularly obsessed with taking the regional cultural capital of Samarkand. While he seized it in 1497, he lost the city almost immediately, as well as Ferghana, and (a very long story short) spent the rest of his teenage years reclaiming or losing bits of territory, fleeing into exile with remote nomadic tribes, and trying to court new followers and surge back. Although he never stopped trying to reclaim Samarkand and his homeland, by 1504, at age 21, he’d effectively been forced out of the region for the rest of his life.
A portrait of Babur. PUBLIC DOMAIN
That year, he pulled off a fantastic feat of warlord jiujitsu, flipping a rival’s forces into his service and marching on Kabul, which was vulnerable after undergoing its own contentious power shift. Babur took the city, and, naturally, set to cultivating its produce scene. In and around the city, he built at least 10 grand gardens that included a fair number of fruiting plants.
While Babur’s writings suggest a personal obsession with food, it’s hard to disentangle this obsession from homesickness. There were also political reasons for him to pay so much attention to cuisine: Food snobbery was a standard way for a Timurid prince such as Babur to make his mark and prove his elite bona fides in a new land. “The Timurids, while ethnically Turkic, based their legitimacy to a large extent on their being champions of Persianate ‘high’ culture,” says Central Asian historian Richard Foltz, “which included taste in food.”
Kabul proved ill endowed to support a successful campaign back to Ferghana, though. So Babur turned his attention to neighboring India. He got a lucky break when a new king—an inept man who clearly had dissenters and rebels in his ranks—came to power in the northern Sultanate of Delhi. Babur struck at this weakness, invading the region through the early 1520s. Despite being outmanned by a ratio of perhaps five-to-one in his final standoff with the sultan, he usurped the throne in 1526.
Babur entering Kabul. PUBLIC DOMAIN
According to Foltz, Central Asians mostly looked down on Indians, who were neither Muslims nor Persianate. Babur, his recent biographer Stephen Dale notes, was also still deeply homesick. These factors, and possibly personal tastes, led him to dismiss his new territory, and especially its food: “Hindustan is a country that has few pleasures to recommend it. … [There is] no good flesh, no grapes or muskmelons, no good fruits, no ice or cold water, no good bread or food in their bazaars.”
Babur shouldn’t have had time for food in India either. He spent the last four years of his life fighting local insurgencies and consolidating his power. In 1530, he died at the age of 48, in Agra, the north Indian city where his great-great grandson Shah Jahan (lived 1592–1666) would later build the Taj Mahal. But he wrote letters in those years expressing his desire to return home, or at least taste its grapes and melons. He describes receiving a melon from Kabul and weeping as he ate it. He planted Central Asian grapes and melons in India, which brought him some joy. He even asked local chefs to make Persianate food for him, although one of them tried to poison him.
By establishing supply chains that brought his native agriculture and cuisine to the region, Babur left a lasting legacy. “He probably played a role in bringing Central Asian influences into the elite, courtly Indian life,” says Elizabeth Collingham, a food historian who explored Babur’s life and influence in her history of curries .
Babur, on the Way to Hindustan, Camping at Jam, from the Baburnama. PUBLIC DOMAIN
Granted, Babur was not the first Central Asian lord in what is now India. From 1206 to Babur’s day, five prior Central Asian dynasties ruled from Delhi. They too imported foods from home, cooked dishes they knew, and even did some fusion cooking. Trade and migration also meant there’d always been interplay between the regions, including culinary influence. Glimpses of this cultural mingling include the first mentions of samosas in the region’s written record—in accounts of those earlier medieval sultans’ feasts.
But according to Rukhsana Iftikhar, a historian of social life amongst the Mughals, the Persian word for “Mongols” by which Babur’s descendants came to be known, many of these dishes differed in style and flavor profile from the Persian-influenced Central Asian cuisine Babur preferred. They likely had not caught on with the general Indian population by the time Babur arrived, and few of them would sound familiar to fans of global Indian fare today.
Historians like Dale and Foltz chalk this up to the fact that previous dynasties—while they had some cultural influence—seemed to see India mostly as a piggy bank. They didn’t like to mix with local elites, and their culture was not grand or stable enough to invite mimicry and adaptation.
A banquet with roast goose. PUBLIC DOMAIN
Babur, by contrast, was more statesman than raider. His pedigree and strong connections to Iran also gave him and his descendants more cultural cachet, and those descendants mixed more readily with the local populace. And for over a century after his death, Mughal rulers continued to praise the same foods Babur praised and keep the caravans of his beloved Central Asian fruits and nuts flowing. Babur’s successor Humayun brought Persian cooks to Delhi, and Humayun’s son, Akbar, was notably cosmopolitan and curious in the kitchen. Later descendents were not as invested in Persianate culture and the foods of Ferghana as Babur. But either as a means of displaying their wealth or of brandishing the superiority of their heritage, they carried on the culinary trajectory Babur set up.
Babur’s descendants also spent lavishly on their kitchens, elevating food as a status symbol. But unlike Babur, they made it a point to round up chefs from around their Indian domains, a practice that invited fusion. The grandeur and duration of their courts, argues Collingham, led local elites to copy their Persianate and Central Asian motifs and augment their own kitchens, leading to parallel fusion work in places like Hyderabad, Kashmir, and Lucknow. Over the centuries, these innovations coalesced into Mughlai food, a stable cuisine common across, although not ubiquitous in, northern India by the early 20th century.
This cuisine was defined by, among other things, aromatic, creamy curries, often incorporating the nuts and dried fruits Babur adored. It includes many dishes familiar to Western diners today: Korma, a blend of Central Asian nuts and dairy with Persian and Indian spices. Rogan Josh, a slow-cooked, Persian-style meat spiced up in the kitchens of Kashmir. And tandoori grilling, facilitated by Mughal tweaks to said grills and to marinades and spicing styles.
These dishes became ubiquitous in the West, Collingham says, because haute Indian chefs have long viewed Mughlai cooking the same way Western cooks used to see Le Cordon Bleu. Indians who set up restaurants abroad made Mughlai food the template of Indian food in the U.S. and U.K.—to the chagrin of Indians who grew up eating many other cuisines that remain hard to find outside their homelands.
None of this was a conscious project for Babur. But by setting up shop in Agra and Delhi, he created a wave that shook the foundations of India, culinary and otherwise. His tastes indirectly fueled 300-plus years of kitchen innovation. It’s no Central Asian dynasty of skulls and melons. It’s something more widespread and enduring, if unexpected or unwanted.
Gastro Obscura covers the world’s most wondrous food and drink.
source: http://www.atlasobscura.com / Atlas Obscura / Home> Stories / by Mark Hay / November 15th, 2017
FOR A FAIR CONTRACT At the discussion that followed the book release, the panellists (from left) journalist Marya Shakil, lawyer J.C. Batra, author Ziya Us Salam and Lt. Gen. (Retd.) Zameeruddin Shah) discussed women’s rights in Islam
Ziya Us Salam’s “Till Talaq Do Us Part” defogs the miasma around the issue of instant triple talaq
Triple talaq is a phrase that the citizens of India became acutely aware of post the events of 2017, when seven women petitioners moved the Supreme Court against their instant divorce brought about through the uttering of the words ‘talaq, talaq, talaq.’ The apex Court had, on August 22, ruled that instant triple talaq was a practice not sanctioned in the Quran, yet a fog of confusion and obfuscation surrounds the general discourse and public understanding of what exactly constitutes an Islamic divorce. In this context, Till Talaq Do Us Part (Penguin Random House) by senior journalist Ziya Us Salam is a book that acquires much significance as it tries to brush the dust away and bring clarity to the issue by reverting to the most authentic source for Islamic knowledge — the Quran.
Released this past evening at the India International Centre by Lt. Gen. (Retd.) Zamiruddin Shah, the book defines nine types of divorce interpreted from Quranic verses.
Among them some of the most important ones are Khula, the inalienable right of the woman to instantly divorce her husband on the grounds of his inability to take care of her needs or even simply her dislike for him; Talaq e Ehsan where the man pronounces divorce once but the woman lives with him for the next three months, after which he can divorce her or they can reconcile; Talaq e Hasan where the man pronounces divorce three times in three months, but only in the interim periods of menstrual cycles; Mubarat which takes place through mutual consent, Faskh or judicial divorce; Talaq e Tafweez which is incorporated into the Nikahnama wherein the husband vests the rights of divorce in his wife.
Lack of information
“In the present scenario within the country, the right information on Islam was not reaching the masses,” says Salam. Which is why he decided to write this book that talks about numerous aspects of marriage including the model nikahnama that the AIMPLB spoke of circulating but never quite got down to the task. He also speaks of the importance of meher, the dower paid by the man to the woman at the time of marriage, and how it is entirely neglected among Muslims in India. The meher must be paid either in full to the woman at the time of nikah, or in part with the husband giving a written undertaking that he would pay the rest in future, he emphasises. “One of the most important things is to have one regular nikahnama for all Muslims — at the most two, one for Sunnis and the other for Shias — but ideally, just one.”
Understanding halala
The book also deals with the highly controversial issue of halala, which in truth has been contorted and disfigured heavily into an abhorrent act of female exploitation. Halala, explains Salam, actually gives a woman the right to choose.
If perchance a woman’s second husband either passes away or the second marriage too results in divorce, she has the right to go back and choose her first husband again. However, with the entirely invalid and un-Quranic practice of triple talaq, instant divorces are carried out in a fit of anger and when the man comes to his senses and wishes to reconcile with the woman, they are forced into a monstrous distortion of Halala. When triple talaq gets pushed out of the scene, the question of a one-night halala would not arise at all.
Several scholars state that triple talaq was made legal by Umar Ibn Khattab, the second Caliph in Islamic history. “The important fact which is overlooked, though, is that it was made legal upon the condition that the man giving triple talaq would be flogged,” he highlights. “So why do the maulanas forget to flog the men giving triple talaq?”
A very important point here is that instant triple talaq did not exist at the time of Prophet Mohammad at all, nor the time of the first Caliph. Equally pertinently, it was later made entirely invalid and illegal by Ali Ibn Abi Talib, the fourth Caliph of Islam.
Many Islamic countries have made the instant talaq illegal and it is non-existent among the Shia sect. In fact it is illegal in all other sects except the Hanafis, but as the author writes in his book, “there is no direct word from Imam Hanifa on triple talaq.”
But social structures are rigid and herd tendencies difficult to change, which is why the Supreme Court judgement against instant triple talaq cannot be enough, just as dowry and caste system still exist despite being grossly unconstitutional. In addition, the maulanas whom the masses look to for religious guidance are ill-equipped for the task, caught as they are between rote-recitation and following customs without an attempt at understanding. “Across the country, a vast number of Imams don’t even know (the meaning of) what they have read in namaz!” avers Salam. “They prevent women from coming to mosques but at the Kaaba in Mecca, women and men pray together, perform Hajj together. There is no restriction at all upon women praying in mosques.”
The important task, then, is for the community to be educated and made aware of their rights, for people to read translations of the Quran and develop a deeper understanding. One may pick any translation and exegesis among the many reputed ones, but the most important thing is to explore. In addition, the men must be made aware of the rights of women as much as the women themselves. As Salam says, “We have reduced the understanding of the Quran to the monopoly of some aalim. But the Quran came for all of humanity, not a select group of scholars.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Books> Authors / by Zehra Naqvi / May 03rd, 2018
