Full details: From the Ashes of 1947
Watch the panel discussion with Pippa Virdee (De Montfort University, UK), Afzal Saahir (Poet and Radio Host) and Sajid Awan (Quaid-e-Azam University) of my book From the Ashes of 1947 at the Afkar-e-taza, January 2018 Panel Discussion
This week Coventry successfully won the bid to be the city of culture in 2021. Subsequently, there have been numerous articles about Coventry in the media, reflecting both the history and lived experiences of the city. The response has also been mixed in the sense that some people have continued to dwell on the lack of culture and “beauty” in the city, and in part this is true. The more optimistic see this as an opportunity to revive the glorious past with renewed energy.
I shared this picture yesterday with friends and I got this beautiful poetry in return:
I know, you are silent sage tree, more than a human being.
I know your are, like Buddha, meditating while planting your self in freezing snowy mountains.
I salute to your benign and humble posture.
I recognise the ‘firm’ within your green leaves, though you appear to be in a tilted posture.
This is your humility, for you are laden with love and humanity.
Thank you Prof Iswhar Dayal Gaur for writing this.
at every step
she is stricken with anguish and suffering
with the solitude of the victim
weeping and sobbing
she returns to her den
to say farewell
to trees and flowers
to say farewell
to the deep, slow moving river of solitude
to say farewell
to the fast fading shadows
of the helpless wilderness !
Translation of poetry from Harjeet Singh Gill, Sufi Rhythms. Interpreted in free verse (Patiala: Punjabi University, 2007), p 153.
Read about Laeeq Babree: https://www.dawn.com/news/112054
within and without
in and out
there is resonance of my Love
there are beats of His rhythm
in union there is light
in separation there is darkness
Bahu is the slave in the two worlds
who serves his Master in every breath
in every movement of his heart and hearth !
Translation of poetry from: Harjeet Singh Gill, Sufi Rhythms. Interpreted in free verse (Patiala: Punjabi University, 2007), p.75.
Read more about Sultan Bahu: https://sufipoetry.wordpress.com/poets/sultan-bahu/
Lucknow is the capital of the Indian subcontinent’s Awadhi ‘heartland’, in historian Gyanesh Kudaisya’s evocative words. Less evocatively, it is the capital of the Indian State of Uttar Pradesh (UP) and its largest city with a population of three million people, of which 26 per cent are Muslim. It is the centre of Shia Islam in India, historically the capital of Awadh, it was one of the major centres during the rebellion in 1857, the cultural capital of north India and home to the famous Chikankari embroidery work, thought to be popularised by Nur Jahan. The Nawabs of Lucknow were known for their refined tastes as much as their extravagant lifestyles, and the city has most beautifully been captured and bought to life in the 1977 film, Shatranj ke Khiladi that was based on the Hindi short-story of the same name by Munshi Premchand and the 1981 film, Umrao Jaan that was based on the Urdu novel Umrao Jaan Ada by Mirza Hadi Ruswa. Set in mid-nineteenth century Lucknow, they show the decadence of the Lucknavi high society through the life of Nawabs and courtesans, the moral decay/hypocrisy around their lives in the backdrop of political intrigue and rebellion. Shift to the present-day Lucknow/UP and the state is better known for returning a thumping win in the state election of 2017 for an ascending Hindu ‘nation’ led by Narendra Modi and, in return, finding itself being ruled by a Yogi. A milieu previously famous for its adab-tehzeeb is now the habitus of Adityanath and his terrific to many, terrifying to some, presence.
A recent visit their began at the annexe of the Charbagh station, past the pillars of the fly-overs of the-then on-going metro constructions and a rather tasteful red-and-white façade of the Charbagh metro-station with its Jali décor; apropos which my auto-wallah remarked, ‘Akhilesh ne kaam to bahut kiya par chacha ne harwa diya’. In no time, we were in old Lucknow; the narrow, congested streets of Aminabad, where the first thing noticeable was that while many shops had named the lane we were on as Latouche Road, others had it as G.B. Road, for, Gautam Buddha. The incongruity of being in a space that marked its time from both the British Lt-Governor Sir James Latouche (AD 1901-06) and the Shakyamuni Siddhartha (563-483 BC) did not end there. It was also reflected in much of the arms, air guns et al, and ammunitions market on one side being stared at by hundreds of chickens from their kens in many of the poultry-khanas on the other. While the arms stores dated back to 1933, 1940s-50s, prominent among these being Gupta Brothers, Hashim Manzil, with their colonial, hanging, dilapidated balconies, small windows, tapering and peeling pillars, darkening, decaying visage, plants growing out of lime plastered walls, the poultry-khanas seemed without pedigree. Amidst this sea of noisy chatter around the selling of guns and the stoically silent birds, there was also a serene and strikingly yellow-coloured masjid/madrasa and its school of calligraphy. It plainly stood apart and alone in its intent and purpose.
By Maaz Bin Bilal
I want to tell them frankly that mere declarations of loyalty to the Indian Union will not help them at this critical juncture. They must give practical proof of their declarations.
— You Cannot Ride Two Horses (Speech by Sardar Patel on 6 January 1948, in Lucknow)
I
Why did you sell your house now, O Khadim?
As hereditary guard of the Taj Mahal, must you not be prim
and proper, when for Pakistan has left,
all your family, most of your kin?
II
There are four reasons for the sale, Sahib:
I owed debts, and I have daughters to be married,
The refugees living in my house misused it,
My sons have gone, I need money, for when I die, to be buried.
III
Tut, tut, I am sorry, I am not convinced,
Why now? Never before you felt pinched?
Go fetch positive proof of your faith, in a month,
else lose your job, we believe in your guilt.
IV
Here, Sir, I have brought back from Lahore,
my two single daughters, orphaned grandchildren—four.
The rest won’t come, they fear their old neighbours,
Please don’t fire me, by God, I could do no more.
Original published in EPW: http://www.epw.in/journal/2017/46/postscript/agra-1948.html
The city of Sonepat, in present day Haryana State, hardly has anything of note for the wandering and curious tourist but surprisingly there are a few gems hidden away. Tucked away in the semi-urban landscape is the tomb of Khwaja Khizr, surrounded by a lush green garden, buffaloes and residential housing. Standing tall and elevated on a mound is the tomb, overlooking the city of Sonepat. Local residents and the accidental tourists looking for scenic open spaces come here and congregate around the garden. Relaxing in the open air, families surround the tomb, passing time or having picnics; children play games and make merry. And the occasional visitor ventures inside the tomb to pay their respects or simply out of curiosity.
This stunning tomb was built over the remains of Khwaja Khizr. According to a Persian inscription on the site, Khwaja Khizr was the son of Darya Khan Sarwani. Darya Khan himself was an influential noble in the court of Sikandar Lodhi. Work commenced on the tomb in 1522 and was completed by 1524 by Ibrahim Lodhi.
Latif writing in 1889 notes:
Sikandar Lodi died in 1517 in Agra, his son Ibrahim Lodi ascended the throne. Dissatisfied with the court of Delhi, Doulat Khan Lodi (Sikandar’s uncle and viceroy of the Panjab) sent his agents to Kabul to urge Baber, the Moghal prince, a son of a great-grandson of Tymur, to attempt the subjugation of the empire of Hindostan, in imitation of his ancestor’s conquests. Baber, accordingly invaded India in 1526, and a battle was fought between the Moghals and Indians on the plains of Panipat, a battle-field on which the fate of India has so often been decided. This memorable battle, which was fought on the April 21, 1526, resulted in the victory of Baber. Ibrahim Lodi, the last of the dynasty, was slain on the field, and by his death a new dynasty under the Moghals was established. The reign of Ibrahim Lodi had lasted twenty years and the dynasty to which he belonged seventy-six in three successions, from 1450 to 1526. (Syed Muhammad Latif, History of the Panjab, 1889)
Locally Khwaja Khizr was revered as saint; he apparently renounced his courtly lifestyle in favour of pursuing a simple life inspired by the Sufi tradition. Like many before him, he was in search of the real meaning of life. Carefully leaving their shoes/slippers outside, the occasional devotees go inside the tomb to pay homage, lighting an incense stick, leaving offerings and tying treads for manants. The syncretic tradition associated with this historic land still finds places to hide-away and co-exist. For the curious visitor, the tomb itself is a rare example of being built with kankar (variety of limestone) blocks and red sandstone. The wide staircase leads to the two-arched gateway. The Indo-Islamic style of architecture sympathetically reflects the fusion and syncretic tradition. While reading around to find out more about the shrine, there was an article which suggests that ‘the tomb was once decorated with blue tiles – now missing – and that it was repaired in 1921-22 at a cost of Rs 130 although the sanctioned amount was Rs 167!’ (http://portofcall1.blogspot.in/2010/12/sonepat-beyond-toughs.html) Although the tomb could certainly do with some more care and attention, it is still worth a visit for the accidental or the intentional tourist who happens to pass by Sonepat. Neglect, whether this is willfully done or not, means that places like these fall into disrepair and with them they erase centuries old histories.
Tomb of Khwaja Khizr (Khijar Makbara and Park) – Sonepat, India https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZLZNr9bFdo
BAGICHA 