Category Archives: Short Essays

Short Essays

Notes from Lagos (Portugal): from Punjab to Lagos part 2

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On a recent trip to Lagos, Portugal, I was struck by the presence of Indians, particularly young students, some were perhaps tourists and migrants who appeared to be seeking opportunities, others looked more settled and part of the local community.

The Indian diaspora in Portugal is diverse and can be broadly divided into three distinct regional groups:

  1. Gujaratis – The largest group, encompassing both Hindus and Muslims, reflects the deep-rooted trade and migration links between Gujarat and Portugal.
  2. Goans – Predominantly Christian, this group traces its heritage to Portugal’s colonial past, when Goa was under Portuguese rule for over four centuries. This historical connection has shaped their language, culture, and religious practices.
  3. Punjabis – Predominantly Sikhs, this community has migrated more recently, seeking opportunities in industries like hospitality and retail.

While walking around the streets of Lagos came alive with a rich tapestry of languages, including Gujarati, Punjabi, Hindi, Portuguese, and English, mingling seamlessly. This linguistic and cultural interplay highlighted the adaptability and integration of these communities within the Portuguese society.

Historical Roots and Migration Patterns

Historically, Portugal’s connection to India dates to the early 16th century when Vasco da Gama’s expeditions established trade and colonial links. [Read Lagos to Goa Part 1] Goa became a Portuguese territory in 1510, fostering a flow of people, goods, and cultural exchange between the two regions. Even after Goa’s annexation by India in 1961, ties between the two nations have persisted, enabling migration and cross-cultural connections.

Kristina Myrvold notes that significant Indian migration to Portugal began in the 1970s after the collapse of the Portuguese Empire and the 1974 democratic revolution. During this period, many Portuguese-speaking Hindus and Christians from former colonies like Mozambique and Goa migrated to Portugal. Later, in the 1990s, Portugal’s entry into the European Union and Schengen Zone made it an attractive destination for immigrants from India, including those with no prior cultural or linguistic ties to the country.

The Growing Sikh Community

Among the broader Indian diaspora, the growing number of Punjabi Sikhs particularly stood out during my visit. Many Indian restaurants appeared to be run by Sikhs, though ownership could belong to others. Myrvold explains that Sikh migration to Portugal began in the early 1990s, coinciding with a construction boom that created a high demand for labour. Many Sikhs initially worked in construction and agriculture, industries that required significant manpower. Over time, they expanded into other sectors, opening shops and restaurants, particularly in hospitality and retail.

Portugal’s relatively relaxed immigration policies and labour shortages during that period encouraged migration. Many Sikhs used Portugal as a stepping stone to secure residency or citizenship, drawn by the affordable cost of living and accessible legal pathways. This trend has driven the growth of the Sikh community in Portugal, which was estimated at 5,000 in 2007 and doubled to 10,000 by 2010. By 2024, the Indian Embassy in Portugal estimated the Sikh population at 35,000, highlighting their increasing settlement in the country.

Settlement and Challenges

Many Sikhs initially arrived in Portugal via other European countries, attracted by Portugal’s relatively lower cost of living and accessible legal pathways to residency and citizenship. Geographically, the Sikh community is spread across Portugal, with significant populations in major cities such as Lisbon and Porto, as well as in Albufeira and other towns along the Algarve. These regions have not only offered economic opportunities but also served as hubs for community life, where Sikhs have built places of worship, such as gurdwaras, and organized cultural events to preserve their traditions and strengthen community bonds.

The Sikhs community in Portugal is relatively new compared to other Indian groups with longer-established connections with the country. While travelling from Lagos to Faro, I had the chance to speak with a Sikh taxi driver who had been living in Albufeira for over 10 years. Despite the initial linguistic and cultural challenges, according to the taxi driver, the quality of life is much better in Portugal. They maintain their links with family back home in Jullundur but work and home is here.

The work is also seasonal and dependent on tourism, the summer being peak time to work long hours and earn double or triple the earnings to compensate for the winter periods when tourism drops. Looking into the future with rising living costs and increasing restrictions on settlement according to the taxi driver, it will make be harder for future migrants to establish themselves in Portugal.

Sources

Kristina Myrvold, ‘Sikhs in Portugal’ Religious Studies Commentaries, 11 August 2012. https://religionsvetenskapligakommentarer.blogspot.com/2012/08/sikherna-i-portugal.html

Inês Lourenco, From Goans to Gujaratis : a study of the Indian community in Portugal, Migration Policy Centre, CARIM-India Research Report, 2013/01 – https://cadmus.eui.eu/handle/1814/29463

Jennifer McGarrigle, and Eduardo Ascensão. “Emplaced mobilities: Lisbon as a translocality in the migration journeys of Punjabi Sikhs to Europe.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 44, no. 5 (2018): 809-828.

Pamila Gupta, “The disquieting of history: Portuguese (De) Colonization and Goan migration in the Indian Ocean.” Journal of Asian and African Studies 44, no. 1 (2009): 19-47.

India, Pakistan, Partition, Short Essays

What makes you feel nostalgic?

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Carefree Days with Pran Nevile, April 2016. © Pippa Virdee

Today’s daily prompt on WordPress was “What makes you feel nostalgic?” I of course immediately started thinking and letting my mind wonder into the past. The past that is often nostalgic and romantic; it is after all the 31 December! Immediately one memory came back like a flash.

I recall the numerous times that I went to visit Pran Nevile at his home in Gurgaon, where we would have meet, chat, drink and eat. And almost always there would be music playing in the background, the kind of music that transports you to a bygone era, along with the conversation. These “Carefree Days” are no more, but those precious memories remain.

Beyond the nostalgia I remember I wrote a tribute for Pran, which was supposed to have been published but I suspect it never was. I most likely didn’t follow up because of work distractions. Upon a keyword search (thank goodness for that!) I found the tribute on my laptop straightaway. I sat there with the melodic voice of Begum Akhtar in the background and re-read the piece, feeling sad but happy to have met someone like Pran at the beginning of my own journey. It makes a fitting post for today’s prompt, as I will always associate Pran with the nostalgia of a pre-partitioned Punjab that is no more.

Pran Nevile (1922-2018): A Tribute

I first met Pran Nevile in 2001, when I embarked on a new journey in my life of pursuing a PhD. He was recommended to me by my supervisor, Prof. Ian Talbot. We met, like on many subsequent occasions, at his favourite place in New Delhi, the India International Centre (IIC). I was beginning my research into the impact Partition had on Punjab, exploring this through first-hand accounts of people, who were forced to abandon their homes and leave during that tumultuous and violent time. Pran was born in Lahore in 1922 and thus could recollect stories from the colonial period thereby contextualising this impact on Punjab following Partition. At the time I didn’t know much about Pran, beyond that he had written a book on Lahore and that he had a previous career in the Indian Foreign Service. In many ways, I was an outsider to both the intellectual Delhi circle and academia, more generally. We sat in the café at the IIC and had tea, while chatting about an array of subjects. Almost straightaway we bonded as he radiated with an old-school genteel charm that belongs to a by-gone era; certainly not of the India and Pakistan today. He paid me a wonderful/witty compliment, by saying that when I speak in Punjabi, I sound like a Punjaban and when I speak in English, I am a mem. He would repeat this on numerous occasions. This was the beginning a friendship, which endured until he passed away on 11 October 2018. He was my connection to the pre-partitioned Punjab, and I was his connection to Lahore, exchanging notes and comparing the-then and now. 

Growing up in Lahore

Pran’s family lived in Nisbet Road in the walled city of Lahore, where his father had migrated to in the early 1910s from their ancestral village of Vairowal, in neighbouring Amritsar district. Following his education at the DAV School, he was successful in getting a scholarship and got admission to the prestigious Government College Lahore, from where he graduated in 1943 in MA Economics. He recollects many of his early memories of growing up in Lahore in his autobiography, Carefree Days (2016), recounting the days of “pastimes, fairs and festivals”, which would keep them amused all year round. His favourite pastime though was kite flying, as he writes: “I cannot recall anything more thrilling than kite flying in my boyhood” (pp. 10-11). Pran, like many others, lamented the later ban on kite flying in Lahore, which has seen the demise of the popular Basant festival.

Writing Lahore: A Sentimental Journey (1992), a book that instantly resonated with many Lahoris, enabled Pran to visit the city of his childhood. He was one of the lucky ones because he was able to visit Lahore with ease, a romance that he rekindled with this tribute to the city of his birth. He often recited, Jine Lahore nahin Vekhya oh Jamya hi Nahin (One who has not seen Lahore is as good as not having been born at all) (p. 193). Like many other people who left their ancestral homes (thinking they would be back), he had a photographic imprint of the city in his mind, remembering every nook and cranny of the congested Androon Shehr. Professor Tahir Kamran organised a two-day conference at GC University on ‘Punjab and the Raj’ in 2006 and Pran was invited to speak at this conference. I distinctly remember a moment from then, when another friend from Lahore, Bilal Ahmed was driving the car, and Pran was seated in the front and me in the back. We were in the walled city, trying to locate a venue and unsure about the exact location. Immediately, Pran started to navigate and provide directions. He said he can never forget the streets of his Lahore, despite all the changes since his he was a student in the city. It was a heart-warming and amusing moment we never forgot.  

Never-ending Retirement

Pran graduated during the political and international upheaval of World War Two. His desire was topursue a PhD at the London School of Economics, but the uncertainty of that period prompted him to take up an opportunity at the Bureau of Public Information in 1944 as an assistant journalist. After a series of different posts, he was selected for the Indian Foreign Service Board in 1955 as second secretary (commercial) (Carefree Days, p. 46). He joined the Ministry of External Affairs as an attaché in March 1959 and subsequently was posted in Warsaw (1962), Belgrade (1966) and Moscow (1969). By 1974, he was back at the Ministry of Commerce as deputy secretary (East Europe). After that came the opportunity to go to Chicago in 1977, which he recalls ended his “eventful official link with the socialist world of East Europe” (p. 148). During this period, he also had a short stint in Geneva which allowed him to develop his links with the UNDP, which ultimately paved the way for a second career. Soon after in May 1979, he took premature retirement, leaving after 35 years of professional life. He was now the programme coordinator for the UNCTAD, based in Geneva and this allowed him to rekindle his relationship with East Europe until 1985, when he returned back to India. One of the highlights of this stint surely was when he took on the role of a priest and performed the marriage rites for one of his friends in Geneva; a story he often shared with relish.

For a conventional diplomat, Pran was more austere and radical in his personal life. As he recalls in his autobiography, he developed an “abhorrence for this ostentatious tamasha and meaningless jubilation” (p. 49) that surrounded elaborate engagements and wedding ceremonies. In this endeavour, he developed a friendship with Savitri (daughter of an uncle who was married to Pran’s father’s first cousin!), often acting as her mentor and encouraging her towards the pursuit of knowledge and education. He first noticed her in July 1941, as a young man discovering his own self, and by January 1947, they had eloped and had a civil ceremony in Delhi. Early reservations against this marriage were put aside by their families, and he remained with Savitri until she died in 2013. A spark in him went after that.

The Last Calling

After his retirement from work, he decided to embark on yet another career, but this time, it started as an unplanned script. It was in 1987, when he first started making frequent trips to the IIC, spending his days in the library and often using this as office space for his writing. Initially, he only ventured towards his expertise area and wrote on economic matters, but it was not long before his real passion emerged and he turned his gaze towards other subjects, which included his hometown Lahore, nautch girls, dance and music. Feedback from these early forays in small articles gave him confidence to continue with this newfound passion; although one of his earliest writings dates back to 1949, when he wrote ‘Problem of the Mother-in-Law’ which was published in Caravan magazine. His first full-length literary work was inevitably on Lahore, as he recalls: “My desire was to take the reader on a pilgrimage to my Lahore of a bygone era of peace and plenty” (p. 171). The idea for the book was actually conceived way back in 1963 in Hotel Astoria, Geneva. On his seventieth birthday he received the advance copy from the publisher of his first book, Lahore: A Sentimental Journey.

This journey led him to write prolifically on the era of the British Raj. Being a product of that era, he imbued the character of the Brown Sahib and carved out a niche for himself, focusing on the social and cultural history of the British Raj. His fascination for visual and performing arts led him to unearth a vivid and richer history, which he energised many around him with. During the last few years of his life, he reserved his love for K.L. Saigal, the “immortal singer and superstar” (p. 189). My own recollections of Pran were always of visiting him in Gurgaon, chatting at length while nibbling on namkeens, and with the nostalgia of 1940s and 1950s music playing in the background. Those days are no more nor are those, which is his own words read:   

“I belong to the vanishing generation of pre-partition days who were forced to leave their homeland but carried ‘Lahore’ in their hearts like the memory of a first love. Overpowered by nostalgia, we still recall the days when Lahore had attained the reputation of being the ‘Paris of the East’ where people of different communities live in harmony in the sunshine of their common heritage, historic bonds and flamboyant Punjabi culture.” (Carefree Days, p. 194).

Short Essays

Notes from Portugal: Lagos to Goa (Part 1)

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Forte da Ponta da Bandeira (C) Pippa Virdee 2024

It was the winter solstice recently, the shortest day of the year. I find these short winter days difficult, with tiredness and an inability to function beyond sunset. To escape the grey, dull, and wet winters that dominates England now, like many others there, I too like to escape to more sunny pastures.

As I hadn’t been to the Algarve previously, I found the most exquisite guest house, decorated in a North African Arabic style. For many centuries, this “region was ruled by Arabic-speaking Muslims known as Moors. In the 8th c., Muslims sailed from North Africa and took control of what is now Portugal and Spain. Known in Arabic as Al-Andalus, the region joined the expanding Umayyad Empire and prospered under Muslim rule.”

 “In 1249, King Afonso III of Portugal captured Faro, the last Muslim stronghold in Algarve. Most Muslims there were killed, fled to territory controlled by Muslims, or converted to Christianity, but a small minority were allowed to stay in segregated neighbourhoods.” In 1496, King Manuel I expelled all Jews and Muslims, turning the kingdom exclusively Christian.

Sao Goncalo Door (C) Pippa Virdee 2024

Lagos: From Capital to Catastrophe

View towards the harbour
(C) Pippa Virdee 2024

Between 1576 and 1755, Lagos served as the capital of the Algarve region, a time when it stood as a bustling Portuguese city. Unfortunately, the devastating earthquake of 1755, followed by a tsunami, brought widespread destruction, reshaping the city’s character. Today, only fragments of the 16th c. walls and structures remain, such as the Governor’s Castle (Castelo dos Governadores), offering a glimpse into its illustrious past. Much of the Lagos we see today, with its charming streets and architecture, dates from the 17th c. and later, reflecting its rebirth after the calamity.

The Age of Discovery: Lagos’ Golden Era

D. Henrique looking towards the Atlantic (C) Pippa Virdee 2024

The history of Lagos is intertwined with one of Portugal’s most celebrated periods, the so-called “Age of Discovery”. During the 15th c., under the direction of Infante Henry the Navigator—the third son of King John I—Lagos became the hub of Portuguese exploration. From this strategic coastal city, expeditions were launched to Morocco and the western coast of Africa, setting the stage for a new era of global trade and navigation. The harbour bustled with activity, as shipbuilders crafted caravels—sleek, fast ships ideal for exploration—and sailors prepared to navigate uncharted waters.

Lagos and the European Slave Trade

While the Age of Discovery brought economic prosperity and technological advancements, it also marked a darker chapter in history. Lagos became a central hub for the European slave trade. In 1444, the first African slaves arrived in Lagos, sparking a grim trade that would expand throughout Europe and beyond. The Mercado de Escravos (Slave Market), now a museum, stands as a sobering reminder of this era, preserving the memory of those who suffered under the system of slavery. Beyond the slave trade, Lagos thrived as a centre for goods such as spices, textiles, and gold, turning it into a key player in Europe’s burgeoning global economy. The city’s rich maritime heritage is still celebrated today. Monuments, such as the striking statue of Infante Henry, honour Lagos’ historical significance, while museums delve into its role in the expansion of Portugal’s empire.

Vasco da Gama and the Portuguese Monopoly on the Indian Ocean

The voyages of Vasco da Gama marked a defining moment in global exploration and trade. His expeditions (1497–99, 1502–03, and 1524) were the first to successfully connect Europe with Asia via the Cape of Good Hope. This cemented Portugal’s dominance in maritime exploration and also laid the foundation for a century-long monopoly in the Indian Ocean.

In 1497, Vasco da Gama set sail from Lisbon with a fleet of four ships through the Atlantic Ocean to reach the Indian subcontinent in 1498. His arrival in Calicut (Kozhikode) marked the beginning of direct European trade with Asia, giving Portugal access to highly sought-after goods like spices, textiles, and precious stones. This sea route transformed global trade, while boosting Portugal’s economy and influence.

The success of Vasco da Gama’s voyages encouraged further Portuguese expansion into Asia, with trading posts and colonies established along the coasts of Africa, the Middle East, and India. By 1500, Portugal had become a maritime powerhouse, dominating European trade in the Indian Ocean and establishing itself as a global empire.

Réplica da Caravela Boa Esperanca (C) Pippa Virdee 2024

The Strategic Importance of Goa

While Portuguese explorers visited various parts of India, it was Goa that became the jewel in their colonial crown. Acquired in 1510 by Afonso de Albuquerque, Goa offered a strategically defensible location and excellent harbour facilities on both sides of the island. Its position on the west coast of India allowed the Portuguese to control maritime trade routes and establish a stronghold for further expansion into Asia. Goa quickly grew into a bustling hub of commerce, blending Portuguese and Indian cultures.

The Portuguese monopoly in the Indian Ocean lasted until the late-16th c., when other European powers like the Dutch and the English began challenging their dominance. However, the impact of Vasco da Gama’s voyages and the establishment of Portuguese colonies in Asia cannot be understated. These ventures not only reshaped global trade but also led to a lasting exchange of cultures, technologies, and ideas.

Afonso de Albuquerque’s Vision for Goa

When Afonso de Albuquerque captured Goa, he envisioned it not as a mere fortified trading station, but as a full-fledged colony and naval base. Unlike the temporary establishments the Portuguese had built along other Indian coastal cities, Goa was meant to be permanent. Albuquerque encouraged his men to integrate with the local population, fostering intermarriage with local women and encouraging settlement. This strategy was instrumental in creating a privileged Eurasian class, whose descendants formed the backbone of Goa’s colonial society.

Goa quickly grew into a flourishing hybrid settlement, a hub for trade, agriculture, and artisanship, with the influence of the Roman Catholic Church introducing a new dimension to the region. Old Goa, often called the “Rome of the East,” was adorned with magnificent churches, including the Basilica of Bom Jesus and Se Cathedral, reflecting the grandeur of Portuguese architecture.

The Decline of Portuguese Rule

By the mid-20th c., the Portuguese control over India was becoming increasingly untenable. While British rule ended in 1947 and French territories were gradually integrated into India by 1954, Portugal resisted relinquishing its hold. Tensions escalated as Indian nationalists campaigned for the incorporation of Goa and other territories. In 1961, the situation came to a head.

Dadra and Nagar Haveli had already been absorbed into India by August of that year, and on December 19, Indian forces launched “Operation Vijay,” a military invasion of Goa. The operation swiftly ended Portuguese rule, and Goa, along with Damão and Diu, was incorporated into the Republic of India. The fall of Goa marked the end of nearly 450 years of Portuguese presence in India.

Watch this video by BBC News India with accounts of those who fought for independence from Portugal. 

A Lasting Legacy

Despite the end of colonial rule, Portugal’s influence remains deeply ingrained in Goan culture. Four and a half centuries of intermarriage, religious conversion, and linguistic exchange created a distinct identity. Catholicism continues to be a major religion in Goa, and the Konkani language still carries traces of Portuguese vocabulary. The architecture of Old Goa, with its grand churches and baroque facades, stands as a testament to this shared history.

The cultural legacy of Portuguese rule can also be seen in Goan cuisine, music, and festivals, which blend Indian and European traditions in a way that is uniquely Goan. From the spicy vindaloo curry to the lively strains of fado music, the echoes of Portugal are impossible to miss. Ironically both Lagos and Goa are today known more as tourist destinations with their bustling beaches and vibrant nightlife; their connected past remains in fragments, scattered and visible to those who seek.

To follow…Notes from Lagos (Portugal): from Punjab to Lagos (Part 2)

Short Essays

The Tradition of Pearl Diving

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During a recent trip to Doha, I found myself intrigued by the history of pearl diving. I must admit I knew little about this and it turned out to be one of the oldest professions in Qatar, dating back to around 4,600 BCE. Before the discovery of oil and gas, the inhabitants of the Gulf’s Arab coast relied on diving for natural pearls as their economic livelihood. Pearls from the Gulf were traded to India, Persia, and the Ottoman Empire. In the mid-19th century, the pearl industry rapidly expanded to meet the global demand as pearls became a precious and much sought-after luxury item.

It was typically the male member of the family who would go out during the pearling season, which was usually during the four summer months. The women stayed back, managing the household and all the associated work. The boats departed from ports like Manama, Doha, Dubai, and Abu Dhabi. Divers, sailors, and “pullers” (who brought divers up from the seabed) participated. Advances were often given to crews by boat captains (nakhudas), who financed the season. Pearl merchants (tawawish) paid nakhudas upon pearl delivery.

The work itself was perilous and dangerous; it was technical and incredibly hard work, where some of the divers never made it back home. The pearl divers endured many obstacles, from the burning sun to the treacherous waters. Many men would stay in one ship cramped together for months to sustain their families. During their dives, they would hold their breaths with the help of a nose peg for up to two minutes at a depth of up to 18 metres. This is no mean feat!

Interestingly the museums made some comparison of this work with the discovery of oil. Both relied heavily on labour who were separated from their families for long periods. It was hard and arduous, gruelling in the summer heat, but necessary to sustain livelihoods and family life in the desert where there few other alternatives. The beneficiaries typically were a handful of people, whether this was from the pearl industry or “black gold.” From the 1920s, with the discovery of oil, pearl diving itself began to decline and led many divers to leave the profession.

At the same time, countries such as Japan, began cultivating pearls, leading to a decline in the Arabian trade. These cultured pearls became more abundant and affordable than the Gulf-harvested pearls. The pearl fishing fleets shrank, and towns’ populations dwindled. But despite this, it remains an integral part of Qatar’s national heritage. If you ever visit Doha, you will you’ll find nods to Qatar’s pearl diving past throughout the capital city, including the dhow boats at the harbour, traditionally used for collecting pearls; the pearl sculpture at Corniche which is an open oyster shell statue with a pearl inside; or then the artificially built Pearl Island which exudes modernity, technological advancement, while paying homage to the past.

The preservation of this heritage can also be gleaned from the traditional pearl diving songs. The songs blend elements from Bedouin, East African, Persian and Indian styles, creating a rich and diverse musical heritage. They evoke the spirit of the sea, resilience, and the camaraderie of pearl divers. It is often through this orality that one can still get a sense and appreciate the past.

Read more: The Tradition of Pearl Diving

Photos: Pearl diving tradition being kept alive in Qatar

India, Short Essays

Chandni Chowk: the spirit of the Ganga-Jumna Tehzeeb

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I recently had the opportunity to revisit an old favourite place of mine, Purani Dilli, with a friend. Old Delhi, despite the wider socio-economic and political changes emanating from neighbouring New Delhi, retains much of its previous charm of being a vibrant and colourfully diverse locality. The constellations around Chandni Chowk and the labyrinth of narrow lanes overflowing with people, trade, and character, fill the hearts and bellies of locals and tourists alike. There are of course signs of change where the old meets the new, and reinvention is indeed necessary for survival. In this endeavour, the main thoroughfare has been pedestrianised, but cycle rickshaws and people continue to jostle for space. You can buy almost anything from here, it is a complete eco-system of co-existence.

History of the area

It was Shahjahan (r. 1628 –1658), the fifth great Mughal, who ordered his famous chief architect Ustad Ahmad Lahori (who also designed the Taj Mahal) to build this then-walled city between 1638 and 1649, which contained the imposing red sandstone fortress of Lal Qila and the Chandni Chowk, the main street. Shahjahanabad (abode of Shah Jahan), or as it is more popularly known as Purani Dilli/Old Delhi, refers to that walled city where the Mughal court, army, and household moved from Fatehpur Sikri in 1648, which then become the heartbeat and commercial centre of the empire.

Biswas (2018) notes that the city developed along an “organic street pattern…with signature characteristics such as different activities and trades, clusters of houses based on closeness and common interests and social ties, which it still depicts today. The lanes and the streets were designed for an easy movement of pedestrians and animal driven vehicles, which today have been taken over by two- wheelers, electronic and manual rickshaws…”

It remained the capital of the Mughals in India until the Revolt of 1857, by when the East India Company and afterwards the British Crown Rule had shifted the seat of power to Calcutta, only to return back to Delhi in 1911, where they too commenced with the construction of a new modern administrative headquarters designed by Edwin Lutyens and Herbert Baker, which was formally inaugurated in 1931. To distinguish between these two empires and spaces, the older city became Old Delhi and New Delhi become the new citadel with its palatial bungalows and manicured wide streets. Since 2019, the current BJP Government has commenced another phase of construction with the Central Vista Project led by a team under Bimal Patel. We can therefore see layer upon layer, phase after phase of architectural stamping, ushering in its own ideological imprint.

The Walled City

For nostalgia, a bygone era and character, especially for a historian, nothing matches Purani Dilli. The walled city brings with it rich heritage, historic buildings and the intimate liveliness of a small community.

Jain (2004) observes that “The Red Fort, Jama masjid and Chandni Chowk have been jewels in the crown of Shahjahanabad. Chandni Chowk is the centrepiece and dominant axis of the Walled City. The original Chandni Chowk had octagonal chowks with a water channel running through the centre. Its wide boulevard with prestigious buildings and bazar created a vista between the magnificent Red Fort and Fatehpuri Mosque. With the passage of time there has been an all-round degradation and deterioration of this glorious boulevard, which can be attributed to several reasons, like over-crowding, markets, wholesale trade, rickshaws and traffic, unauthorised constructions, conversion of heritage buildings, over-riding commercial interests and private motives, coupled with lack of controls.”

Composite culture

There are plenty of people who organise various walking tours of Old Delhi, as it attracts tourists from abroad and locals via the metro that has opened up the space that perhaps looked challenging before. My visit was an impromptu trip, I had some time and thought it would be nice to revisit this area after many years. I had planned to visit the Gurdwara, the Masjid and the Parathe wali gali! As I burnt off the parathas, the striking multi-faith milieu mingling into multi-cuisine eateries, left the heart warmed.

Biswas (2018) provides a detailed summary of the rich diversity present in Chandni Chowk. “In the northern sphere of the city, are the St. James’ Church (the oldest church in the city of Delhi), St. Mary’s Church, remains of Kashmiri Gate, Dara Shikoh’s library, the Lahori gate. In the southern part of the city, the key highlights are the Kalan Masjid, Ajmeri Gate, Holy Trinity Church, Razia Sultan’s grave, Turkman Gate, Havelis of Kucha Pati Ram, Anglo-Arabic School. With these divisions, the centre of the walled city is adorned with the harmonious street of Chandni Chowk, where the sacred spaces or the worship places of all major religions are located and co-exist amicably…The built heritage of the walled city comprises the grand Jama Masjid, the glorious Red Fort and many beautiful Jain temples of the two sects, numerous Hindu temples devoted to a multitude of gods, the Gurudwaras, the churches, the madrassas, the havelis of the Mughal and the post- Mughal era, still survive [ing] against their slaughter at the hands of the modernity.”

Undoubtedly the area has undergone change during the past 400 years, with each reign adding and leaving new layers. The walled city with the Qila and Masjid was the centre piece of the Mughal court, until the British transformed the former into military barracks. The British period marked by the revolt of 1857 saw vast areas being razed to the ground, some places only surviving due to the resultant outrage. With the birth of independent India in 1947, there was again vast destruction, loss of life and mass migration of people. The new contemporary socio-political anxieties mean we are perhaps less sure about the role of these places as they are confined to the past, while we celebrate and sell their associated heritage in the present. The Delhi Government is trying to beautify and make this a tourist hub, but that too must compete with conflicting agendas of the future. But for now, the spirit and roots of the Ganga-Jamuna Tehzeeb are quietly visible.

References and further reading:

Rana Safvi, Shahjahanabad: The Living City of Old Delhi, (HarperCollins India, 2020)

Swapna Liddle, Chandni Chowk: The Mughal City of Old Delhi, (Speaking Tiger, 2017)

Payushi Goel, Foram Bhavsar ‘Evaluating the Vitality of an Indian Market Street: The Case of Chandni Chowk, Delhi’ in Utpal Sharma, R. Parthasarathy, Dr Aparna (eds), Future is Urban: Liveability, Resilience & Resource Conservation (Routledge, 2023)

A.K. Jain, ‘Regeneration And Renewal Of Old Delhi (Shahjahanabad)’ ITPI Journal 1: 2 (2004) 29-38

Anukriti Gupta, ‘The Revolutionaries of Chandni Chowk’, 3 July 2021

Chitralekha, ‘In Paintings: Chandni Chowk of Delhi’, 21 January 2021

Jyoti Pandey Sharma, ‘Spatialising Leisure: Colonial Punjab’s Public Parks as a Paradigm of Modernity’, Tekton 1: 1 (2014) 14-30

Olivia Biswas ‘A Heart City: Celebrating The Pulsating Lifestyles Of The Walled City Of Delhi’ The 2018 WEI International Academic Conference Proceedings, Niagara Falls, Canada

Delhi Heritage Walks https://blog.delhiheritagewalks.com/category/heritage-walks/chandni-chowk-heritage-walks/

Short Essays

Studio Photography and Diasporic Identities

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Sometime last year I was having dinner at the Punjab restaurant in Covent Garden, considered to the “first and oldest Punjabi, North Indian Restaurant in the UK, serving distinctive homestyle Punjabi cuisine…” It was established by Sardar Gurbachan Singh Maan in 1946, initially in Aldgate, and then shifting to Covent Garden in 1951. Maan came to the UK from Mehsumpur, in the Jalandhar District of Punjab, in what was then British India. The restaurant and café provided the familiar tastes of Punjab to the small number of Indians living in and around 1940s and 1950s London. It has since then become a go to place for many, with queues often forming outside for those hoping to chance a table for the culinary delights offered inside.

The interior is mostly simple and unfussy, but nostalgic pictures cover the wall spaces everywhere in the restaurant. They transport you to a different time and place. Quite often the pictures are of the various royal families of Punjab, whether this is the iconic Ranjit Singh or the Maharaja of Patiala; it doesn’t really matter, they provide the regal, historic and nostalgic backdrop to a bustling Punjabi meeting place in London. In between these opulent people, however, are also everyday images of South Asians and of Punjabis living in the UK.

As I sat down, anxiously looking forward to my Punjabi feast, I had already decided I wanted saag, I started to curiously scan the photographs around me. Immediately a picture behind me caught my eye, it looked familiar, very familiar! It was a picture featured in a book that I did many years ago, Coming to Coventry: Stories from the South Asian Pioneers (The Herbert, 2006). The picture was of Gurdail Singh Johal, who had posed for this photograph in a traditional Punjabi kurta and tamba, while holding a transistor radio. It is a beautifully striking image, capturing the need to retain some of the cultural traits of “home”, but adapting and embracing new technologies. Like many other early migrants from Punjab, Johal migrated to Coventry in 1960 from Jalandhar, Punjab.

As you turn the page from Johal’s picture on page 17, there is another equally striking image of Gurmeet Kaur on page 19. This one was taken in Studio Taylor on Primrose Hill in 1959. Gurmeet is dressed in a sari, elegantly draped, and accessorised with some simple bangles and small earrings. Like Johal, Gurmeet is also holding something in her hand; the handbag conveys elegance and affluence. Mostly likely it belonged to her rather than being a prop. Both photographs have the ubiquitous floral bouquet in the backdrop, adding texture, colour and framing for the main object. Both images are important in showing how Johal and Kaur seamlessly integrate traditional dress with the modernity around them.

The studio pictures of Johal and Kaur are typical of that era where mass photography was not widespread and ownership of cameras was limited to those with means, and thus the average person could only indulge in the occasional studio photograph. Everyone dressed up and posed for the special occasion; in fact, I have many similar photographs in my own family album. It was an opportunity not only to capture a time and place, but perhaps also to preserve and show how one had progressed and advanced, especially when in a “foreign” land. It was versatile enough to share with family back home as it could be posted, and to show how they had altered their material status and to showcase the fruits of migration. Posing with a material object therefore was not just a prop in a studio picture, it was a statement about them and their class status. For the photographer it enhanced the aesthetic value of the composition, but for the people, it enhanced their status amongst their family and peers.

Gallery, Pakistan, Poetry Corner, Short Essays

Bahar ayee (It Is Spring Again) by Faiz

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bahār aa.ī to jaise yak-bār

lauT aa.e haiñ phir adam se

vo ḳhvāb saare shabāb saare

jo tere hoñToñ pe mar-miTe the

jo miT ke har baar phir jiye the

nikhar ga.e haiñ gulāb saare

jo terī yādoñ se mushkbū haiñ

jo tere ushshāq kā lahū haiñ

ubal paḌe haiñ azaab saare

malāl-e-ahvāl-e-dostāñ bhī

ḳhumār-e-āġhosh-e-mah-vashāñ bhī

ġhubār-e-ḳhātir ke baab saare

tire hamāre

savāl saare javāb saare

bahār aa.ī to khul ga.e haiñ

na.e sire se hisāb saare

Source: Rekta.org

English Translation by Agha Shahid Ali

It is spring, And the ledger is opened again.
From the abyss where they were frozen,
those days suddenly return, those days
that passed away from your lips, that died
with all our kisses, unaccounted.
The roses return: they are your fragrance;
they are the blood of your lovers.
Sorrow returns. I go through my pain
and the agony of friends still lost in the memory
of moon-silver arms, the caresses of vanished women.
I go through page after page. There are no answers,
and spring has come once again asking
the same questions, reopening account after account.

Listen to Tina Sani and Shabana Azmi’s rendition of the poem.

All pictures © Pippa Virdee, Lahore, Spring 2023

Short Essays

Going Digital…South Asian migration to Coventry

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“exotic from ‘Cocked Hats at Coventry. By Major George Lambert. [With plates.]’.“/ pdm 1.0

As everyone is talking about OpenAI, I decided to experiment and try it out for myself and see what it can generate. The speed with which it generates the material is amazing, and below is the request plus response.

Create a blog about South Asian migration to Coventry:

Welcome to the South Asian Migration to Coventry blog! Here, we will explore the history and current state of South Asian migration to Coventry, a city in the West Midlands of England. We will look at the reasons why people from South Asia have chosen to move to Coventry, the challenges they have faced, and the positive impact they have had on the city. We will also discuss the cultural and religious diversity that has been created by the influx of South Asian migrants and how it has enriched the city. We hope that this blog will provide an informative and interesting insight into the history and present of South Asian migration to Coventry. Coventry has a long history of South Asian migration. The first South Asian migrants to the city arrived in the 1950s and 1960s, when people from India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh moved to the city to find work in the car industry. This influx of South Asian migrants continued throughout the 1970s and 1980s, with many migrants settling in the city and bringing their families with them. This created a vibrant and diverse South Asian community in Coventry, which has grown and flourished over the years. Today, Coventry is home to a large and vibrant South Asian community. According to the 2011 census, over 11% of the city’s population is of South Asian origin. This community has had a huge impact on the city, bringing with it a rich cultural and religious diversity. South Asian migrants have also helped to revitalise the city’s economy, with many businesses and organisations being founded by South Asian entrepreneurs. Despite the positive impact that South Asian migrants have had on Coventry, they have also faced many challenges. These include racism and discrimination, as well as difficulties in finding employment and housing. However, the South Asian community in Coventry has remained strong and resilient, and has continued to make a positive contribution to the city. We hope that this blog will provide an interesting and informative insight into the history and present of South Asian migration to Coventry. We welcome your comments and feedback, and look forward to hearing your thoughts and experiences. Thank you for visiting!

Having written a book about South Asian Migration to Coventry, I can see this is a very superficial AI generated response and in places an inaccurate too, however the AI text has provided a brief overview of the community, with some data from the Census too. The first South Asians to settled in Coventry can be traced as far back as the 1930s, albeit in small numbers, but the more significant numbers were in the post-war era when Coventry was being rebuilt. While the AI generated text mentions work, diversity, contributions to the city etc, there are actually very little detail or specific examples. I can see why there has been so much interest in this, and for us who work in the education sector, this has huge repercussions.

south asian coventry
AI generated image “South Asian Coventry”

To accompany this AI generated blog post, I decided to source my photos from the Openverse and AI generated images from WordPress. With pictures there are clearly limitations, because presumably there is insufficient source material and thus I can’t find suitable pictures to accompany the theme of my post. This has been an interesting incursion into the world of AI, which I really do not know that much about, but it has provided some food for thought (pun intended!).

“View of Coventry“/ CC0 1.0

Please leave any comments or feedback.

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