Murtaza Razvi writes in the daily DAWN:

NOTHING is safe any longer from the malevolence of those who continue to bring death and destruction in the name of God in this increasingly Islamic republic; not even a harmless rock-carved image of the Buddha dating back to the second century BC and which no one worshipped.

The giant Buddha at Jahanabad near Mingora in Swat finally lost its face, parts of the shoulders and the feet in a second assault last Friday by Islamist militants. The historical relic had survived two earlier attacks. But this time round, in spite of the law enforcement agencies having been warned of the danger the militants posed to the rock carving, the latter planned and carried out the blast unchecked.

Read more here

It is disturbing that there is no writ of the government in Swat - otherwise a stunningly beautiful valley. Considering that the army is engaged in a battle with the militants in these areas, the Buddhist relics would be least of government’s priorities.

Yet, they are not unimportant. In fact, it is imperative that the government should protect them as a symbol of our rich past and to send a message to the lunatics who pretend that the cause of [their] Islam would be served. Nonsense - in this day and age and in an overwhelmingly Muslim majority area. What threat they pose and whose ‘eemaan’ is endangered?

It is painful to see how a bunch of extremists are pushing us towards that.

A dynamic and enlightened friend suggests that we should write here, here and UNESCO to register our protest. Notwithstanding the limited chances of any action or corrective measures, at least we would have made the effort!

Please also see my earlier plea[s]:

Death of Pakistani Culture, Our endangered heritage, Saving heritage, Architectural neglect  

Fisk on the long term impact of Iraq tragedy: 

2,000-year-old Sumerian cities torn apart and plundered by robbers. The very walls of the mighty Ur of the Chaldees cracking under the strain of massive troop movements, the privatisation of looting as landlords buy up the remaining sites of ancient Mesopotamia to strip them of their artefacts and wealth. The near total destruction of Iraq’s historic past – the very cradle of human civilisation – has emerged as one of the most shameful symbols of our disastrous occupation.

Evidence amassed by archaeologists shows that even those Iraqis who trained as archaeological workers in Saddam Hussein’s regime are now using their knowledge to join the looters in digging through the ancient cities, destroying thousands of priceless jars, bottles and other artefacts in their search for gold and other treasures

Read the full article here

Indian Muslims blog has posted my travel piece on Delhi.

“…, I tell my workmate of the 22 khawajas buried under Delhi’s soil and the very central role this place has performed in the growth of Sufism in South Asia. My colleague is a little nonplussed as I hold forth, declaring that Delhi is a grand Muslim resource centre. By now, I have made an early morning dash to the Lodhi gardens and walked around the Humayun’s enchanting tomb. My fascination with the saints has not ended and on Thursday I find myself at the dargah of Khawaja Qutbuddin Bakhtiyar Kaki. Aibak was a mureed (disciple) of the saint Khawaja, after whom he named the Qutub Minar. Quite appropriately, the dargah is next to Qutub Minar in the quintessentially medieval Mehrouli area. Bahadur Shah Zafar also built a new residential palace here.”

Read the full article here

Khaled Ahmed is the endangered variety of writers. A true man of letters proficient in world languages, histories and cultures, he is a journalist who does not refrain from confronting the truth. There are very few individuals like him who advance the traditions of seeking knowledge and pontificating in a classical sense. I have been an admirer of his writings since my teens when I would read the Frontier Post (yes it was a thoughtful publication and a refreshing alternative to semi-controlled media in Zia days).

In his recent article published in the The Friday Times (that he also edits), he argues that “because of the death of Pakistani culture, normalisation with India has become more crucial than most of us realise”.

After 60 years Pakistan is helplessly witnessing the destruction of its culture by elements arising from within its society. The mission of purifying society to make it a fit vehicle for Islam has passed from the state. This process has been incremental, but after Talibanisation, the culture-destroying process has accelerated. The state seems to be getting cold feet over something it did earnestly since 1947 in the name of its ‘purifying’ ideology. Now worried about its global image, it is face to face with religious anarchy and wants society to become ‘tolerant’ and ‘moderate’, which is the function of culture. 

Read the full article here.

The concluding paragraph is pretty grim -

Before 1947, Muslims offended with the fahashi (obscenity) of Saadat Hasan Manto took him repeatedly to court, only to hear the Muslim judges under British Raj say that what Manto wrote was high culture, not obscenity. After 1947, every time he was dragged before the court for obscenity, he was convicted! The judge in Karachi gave him tea in the evening and told him he was the country’s greatest short story writer, but convicted him for obscenity in the morning. Now the state wants to stop killing culture, but it is too late.

 Lal Shahbaz Qalandar’s shrine is full of devotees these days. His Urs is a major cultural event in Sindh. The Qalandar has followers across the Central and West Asia and his shrine and festivities around the Urs are an important part of Sindh’s spiritual and cultural landscape. The Qalandar was also a part of the wider Chishtia movement in the subcontinet in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

His shrine even today is an inclusive space for all religions, classes and castes.

This report paints an interesting picture:

In the colourful crowd, Sunnis rub shoulders with Shias and Muslims eat and drink with Hindus, using same plates and glasses. The Sufi culture of the Subcontinent, which breaks the barriers of cast, colour and creed, is witnessed in its most magnificent and harmonious way during the celebrations.

“Neither the power of crowns and kings nor the might of armies equals the force of a Qalandar.”

Source

Update: Sadly, I just read that there were deaths today due to sheer mismanagement and negligence at the shrine. What a pity! May God bless the souls of those who died in such unfortunate (and uncalled for) circumstances.

Sahir Ludhianvi’s immortal poem Taj Mahal has always fascinated me. It takes a most unconventional take at this beautiful monument where the poet protests at the choice of an romantic rendezvous.

Today, I found a lovely translation of this poem. I am reproducing it below - but first a few lines from Urdu:

Yeh chaman zar yeh jamna ka kinara yeh mahal
Yeh munaqqash dar-o-deevar yeh mehrab yeh taaq
Aik shahanshah nay daulat ka sahara lay ker
Hum ghareebon kee mohabbat ka uraya hai mazaaq 

 Taj Mahal

The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!

How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
‘Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen’d
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren’t truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.

These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor’s very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.

This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.

Translation by K.C. Kanda, appeared in “Masterpieces of Urdu Nazm”, published by Sterling Publishers Pvt. Ltd. - found here

A friend sent me this beautiful piece rendered by Girija Devi of the Benaras school of music. 

 She has been described as the last living queen of thumri. Her father Ramdeo Rai was a local Zaminadar and interested in classical Indian music. He initiated his daughter’s musical training when she was five years old. Her gurus were Pandit Sarju Prasad Mishra and Shrichand Mishra.

Found this useful background on Thumri  here-

This tragic Thumri was composed by Nawab Wajid Ali Shah of Awadh who wrote under pen-name Qaisar and “Akhtarpiya”. This was the twilight of Mughal rule and the British exiled him to Calcutta. It is said that this forced departure from Lucknow inspired this thumri:

babul mora naihar chuuto hi jaaye
chaar kahaar mil, mori Doliiyaa uthaaye
more apanaa begana chhuTo hi jaaye
anganaa to parbat bhaye, dehlii bhayi bides
je baabul ghar aapano, mai chali piya ke des

Here is the translation - courtesy Bhirgu

O father, I depart forcibly from my home
Four men gathered to lift my palanquin {see the wedding/funeral analogy here?}
my loved ones will become strangers
the innermost portals of my home will be unreachable
as I leave my father’s home and go to my husband’s country.

Other than Girija Devi, K. L. Saigal sang this thumri in raag Bhairavi (here).

I am free, my mind is free,
I can be imprisoned nowhere.

Today Bulleh Shah’s Urs (death anniversary) celebrations have commenced in Qasoor, Pakistan. Bulleh Shah was an iconoclastic Sufi poet from the Punjab who rejected convention, orthodox religion and conventions. His message of peace and individuality continues. In all respects he was ahead of his times. This time delegates from India will also attend the ceremonies and his timeless verse shall be sung.

Centuries before we knew existentialist thought, this was uttered by a small town Sufi poet:

I know not who I am

I am neither a believer going to the mosque
Nor given to non-believing ways
Neither clean, nor unclean
Neither Moses not Pharaoh
I know not who I am

I am neither among sinners nor among saints
Neither happy, nor unhappy
I belong neither to water not to earth
I am neither fire, not air
I know not who I am

(Translation by K S Duggal)

Another poem berates the classes and hierarchies that divide people:

Let us go O Bullah
let us go then you and I
to the kingdom of the blind;
where none debates our caste or creed
none respect us thus.

This transient world
is neither thine nor mine;
all is finite
why then this quarrel
this contest
for all is ephemeral there in.

Mullah and the torch bearer
are both alike,
professing to light the path for others
themselves dwell in darkness.

(from ‘Kalaam Bulleh Shah’ printed by Pakistan International Printers, Lahore )

On the futility of ritual and uttering that Reality is about unity of all existence - Ik Nukte vich Gal Mukdi Eh (Its all in One contained):

Understand the one and forget the rest.
Shake off your ways of an apostate pest
Leading to the grave to hell and to torture.
Rid your mind of dreams of disaster.
This is how is the argument maintained.
It’s all in One contained.

What use is it bowing one’s head?
To what avail has prostrating led?
Reading kalam you make them laugh.
Absorbing not a word while the Quran you quaff.
The truth must be here and there sustained.
It’s all in One contained.

Some retire to the jungles in vain.
Others restrict their meals to a grain.
Misled they waste away unfed .
And come back home
Emaciated in the ascetic postures feigned.
It’s all in One contained.

Seek you master, say your prayers and surrender to God

It will lead you to mystic abandon
And help you to get attuned to the Lord.
It’s the truth that Bulleh has gained.
It’s all in One contained.

(Translation by K S Duggal)

What an inspiring corpus of verse Bulleh Shah has left for us.
Wish I was in Qasoor, too.

Please do watch Abida Parveen singing here and here.

Jahane Rumi Links: On the rejection of meaningless formal learning here and on freedom of the mind here; and on love sickness here.

SG has sent me this old audio recording of Qurratulain Hyder when she visited London in the 1990s [?] and was interviewed by the BBC.

This is a great interview, with Ainee Apa at her best: quick witted, sharp and entertaining. During the interview she makes fun of the light weight journalism and then remarks on how a writer or an artist gets stuck by an image. She talks of an image from the Iraq war - a 15 second long clip - where a woman is questioning as to why is she a victim of a war.

About getting the highest national awards, she is a little reticent to say much, perhaps finding it ’boring’ in her usual style. In fact she is even a little mocking but then corrects herself immediately.

Another great feature of this recording is that she reads a portion of her (then) latest novel Chandni Begum. (This is one of her later novels and brings forth the evolution of post-colonial India, the confidence of the new generations and the replacement of the old order with the new complex Indian reality. This is also a curious novel, where the protaganist -Chandni - dies at an early stage of the plot and life moves on…Only Ainee could have handled such a story and narrative).

In her reading, Ainee impersonates the characters - street performers or nautankee wallahs- and the passage invokes an entire mood, sociology and politics of how the performing troupe[s] function and finds their stars. There is reference to an artiste who in her greed has renounced her art and has moved to Dubai as an ayah (a domestic helper or a nanny).

The ultimate historical value of this audio-clip is the background to her translation of a 1790 novel authored by a junior official of the East India Company called Hasan Shah.

This novel entitled Nashtar and written in a mix of Hindi and Persian was discovered by Ainee from the Aligarh library. She translated it as “The Dancing Girl” (there is a version called The Nautch Girl as well) and published it in the late 1990s.

The novel, claims Ainee, is the first (South Asian) novel in a modern sense.  The author was a contemporary of Jane Austen. Ainee also mentions the book’s contemporary style of writing, fascinating characterisation and the historical value with respect to the narration of the English Officers’ lifestyle and their immersion in local culture and manners. This changed, as Ainee reminds in this clip, during the reign of Lord Cornwallis when the English officials were asked to develop and maintain a distance from the natives.

(Hasan Shah’s novel was translated in 1890, prior to the publication of Umrao Jan, and therefore Ainee strongly maintaned this to be the first novel. Later some critics disagreed but Ainee held to her point of view based on irrefutable evidence she had painstakingly gathered.)

Listening to this voice in its full force was a pleasure. What a little gem - and I cannot thank my friend more for sending this link.

Picture credit

Postscript: Today, Pakistan’s Geo TV also ran a programme on Ainee in its popular talk show ‘50 minutes’. Tributes were paid and senior writers (including Abdullah Husain who was accused by Ainee of plagirising her in his novel Udaas Naslain! - the gentleman was quite incoherent) held forth on her ’stature’. Some of the discussion was good though a few comments were pretty prosaic (Ainee Apa would not have liked that stuff). But then she must be smiling at Abdullah Hussain declaring on national television that she was the greatest of Urdu novelists!

I had earlier posted on the sad state of the heart wrenching denouement to the dazzling Mughal Empire thanks to Indscribe who related the sad story of middle-aged Sultana Begum, who runs a tea-stall in Howrah to earn a living for her family. The great grand-children of last Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar, are in misery.

Today I received this email:

It is pleasure to know that you have noticed the misery of Sultana Begum, the great grand daughter in law of Bahadurshah Zafar. She is getting only Rs.400/- as political pension from the govt. of India and runs a roadside scrap shop in Shibpur area’s 103/12/C,Foreshore Road of Howrah town of West Bengal in India for her survival. General people occasionally come for her financial help, but that is not sufficient. At least we should provide her a suitable place to live in with dignity. I hope, international community will come forward to rescue her from poverty. She may be contacted on phone number 033 2641-1043. Thank you.

I am not sure about the authenticity of this message. If it is true then it deserves the attention of my Indian friends in the blogopshere.

We just witnessed the sad demise of Urdu’s greatest writer Qurratulain Hyder who died in relative anonymity. She was alone in the hospital for a month. Indeed everyone is now writing about her and the contributions that she made.

I am not a royalist or a monarchist. But the poor Mughals since 1857 have seen the worst treatment at the hands of colonial [and now ostensibly the postcolonial] state. It is time that this be rectified.

Instead of state patronage, perhaps a private philanthropist could sponsor a small decent enterprise for these unfortunate inheritors.

William Darlymple , based on primary sources has recently published a fascinating book called “The Last Mughal”.” It took a foreign researcher to discover documents that were eating dust in our archives. What a pity!

Do we have any respect or understanding of our heritage?

The literati in India and Pakistan are grappling with the larger question of Qurratulain Hyder’s stature in Urdu, and some would say, World literature.  The Daily Times, Pakistan has published an appropriately titled editorial, Quratulain Hyder, Urdu’s greatest novelist. This paragraph struck me:

…her view of culture was intensely pluralistic, explaining Muslim culture too in a “transmigratory” technique in her big novel Aag Ka Darya. The Pakistani public paid her a back-handed compliment by making her books bestsellers in Pakistan; but most of them were pirated, meaning that someone other than her got rich selling them. She was always a chronicler, a kind of Tolstoy in Urdu that our critics have ignored. When someone asked her in Bombay to write about the Iran-Iraq war she naturally began with the Arab conquest at Qadissiya.

Outlook India had to say this:

Only a few days back, to mark the 60 years of Independence, when we asked an eminent jury to pick out 60 Great Indians in 60 years of our Republic, the name of Qurratulain Hyder was introduced prominently as Urdu’s Marquez.”Through her novels and short stories, this prolific writer gave Urdu fiction a brave and endlessly inventive new voice,” we wrote, and quoted the London Times: “Her magnum opus, Aag Ka Darya (River of Fire), is to Urdu fiction what A Hundred Years of Solitude is to Hispanic literature 

In C M Naim’s piece, published in the Outlook:

What counts, for her, is the human spirit and the relationships it generates and nurtures. That is where the linearity of time seems to curve into a spiral, urging us to recognize a past that never quite disappears…..What, then, is our choice as individuals? Here it may be worthwhile to recall the characteristically modest, even self-mocking, remarks that Hyder made in 1991 in her acceptance speech at the Jnanpith Award function: “My concern for civililzational values about which I continue writing may sound naive, wooly-headed and simplistic. But then, perhaps, I am like that little bird which foolishly puts up its claws, hoping that it will stop the sky from falling.“

and he concludes with this superb analysis:

…what Hyder tacitly offers us is nothing but that wise Candidean response: even in the best of all possible worlds, it is best not to neglect to tend our garden. Certainly, through the several thousand pages of her writings, she has shown herself to be an eloquent witness to that truth.

(photo left- Gauri Gill 2005)  The Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh also expressed the sense of loss: “..In her unfortunate passing away the country especially Urdu literature has lost a towering literary figure. She will be truly missed in literary circles in the country.’

Read Jawed Naqvi’s piece in the DAWN; and reactions of various writers in the daily NEWS . Rediff has published an article entitled, She was one of a Kind.  Javed Akhtar, the eminent Indian lyricist has paid this grand tribute and held that she was a true genius and rightly said that he felt sorry for those people who read fiction but had not read Hyder:

“When I say that it is a great loss, it’s not only to Urdu literature, not only to Indian literature, but to the word literature. I am not exaggerating at all.. the years to come, Haider’s novels will reach everywhere.”

“The kind of work she has done… its only because she was born in a third world country and wrote in a language that is not of the imperialistic powers, her novels have not reached everywhere. I am sure the time will come when they will reach..”. 

The blogosphere is also remembering Ainee Apa with great respect. Desicritics published An Enigmatic Icon, Adnan wrote a lovely piece on Ainee Apa and her books entitled A legend passes away and 3 Quarks Daily also remembered her. Urdu India has a brilliant post here and another tribute can be found here. Pakistaniat carried my post - click here to see the comments. And the best was from Delhi Walla, who went to the Jamia graveyard and took some great photos.

This will continue given the sad traditions of our literature - the literary and civilizational merits of authors and poets have often been discovered after they left this world. Having said that Ainee had established herself given her powerful voice and unique style of writing. But her real stature as Javed Akhtar says is yet to be discovered.

About the photo (top left): Gauri Gill in the Outlook writes: 

Qurratulain Hyder was first photographed by Prashant Panjiar in what was a coup of sorts, everyone talked of how elusive and difficult she could be. When I met her last week to persuade her, she said, ‘Tell the magazine I’m a difficult woman.’ I told her that was her reputation anyway. For the first time that afternoon she cracked a grin. She seemed flattered.

Intizar Hussain, the eminent writer of Urdu, recently mused on the Lahore of yesteryears and the literary and intellectual atmosphere. I am posting a few excerpts from his heart-felt piece:

Not far from the coffeehouse there was the Pak Tea House which closed down recently. Even those who never cared to visit it were seen shocked at this cultural catastrophe. How earnestly they struggled for its restoration, but frankly speaking, even if restored it could no longer be the kind of teahouse that it once was. Times have changed; the city has lost its cultural character and opened its arms to commercialisation.

It was a different world when coffeehouses and teahouses flourished. They flourished in the background of a rich restaurant culture, which distinguished the Mall from other cultural spots of the city. Those sitting there were never seen in a hurry. They could afford to sit for long hours discussing ideas and ideologies over a cup of tea. Each literary theory had its protagonists, who when engaged in a discussion gave the impression of being the defender of a noble cause most dear to them. And it was not simply an intellectual exercise with them. What they discovered as truth in the process of their literary or intellectual thinking stayed as an article of faith with them.

Such were the devoted souls for whom ideas and ideologies meant more than worldly benefits. It was because of them that certain restaurants gained a cultural status. Now we are living in a different world. This world cannot afford to have such souls and such haunts within its fold. The age of coffeehouses and teahouses is gone. Food streets are now the hallmark of life in Lahore.

Yet there is hope - such as this intent by a well meaning intellectual on Pakistaniat.

picture credit

A body shall disappear into dust but a voice shall remain.

 Here is an audio recording of Qurratulain Hyder reading “Daalan vala” in her characteristic style. This recording was found on this site. 

I have been upset the entire day. Perhaps it does not matter in the larger scheme of things. But this is a sad, sad day. Qurratulain Hyder, the literary giant of our times is no more. At a personal level it is not just the death of another literary figure but it is far greater and deeper than that. Ainee inspired generations of Urdu readers and there is not a single Urdu writer of post-independence era who has not been influenced by her.

Ainee had a civilizational consciousness that took us beyond the nation-state identities that we are so familiar with in our everyday lives. And, of course there was romance - the notion of eastern and Indic romance - that touched our lives. As I wrote earlier, that the way I have understood the world and perhaps parts of myself were deeply influenced by Ainee.

And now her death is a blow that this source of inspiration is not there anymore; as it is we are living in barren times where literature is about marketing and packaging and catering to consumers.

Ainee primarily wrote for herself but reached out and made her mark - and in the process she connected with millions of readers. And I am just one of them. My friends and I have talked today and we recounted how she shaped our inner lives.

I have at least avoided a regret - I met her after years of longing. Met her twice at her house in her frail state and enjoyed the hours. The impressions were indelible. Of course, the ambitious self had planned a meeting later this year.

But there will be nobody in that Noida house. That little temple opposite her house will remain and the sound of Azaan from a neighbouring mosque will also heard. But the hearty laughter, quick witted lines and inimitable writings will not be there.

However, as a friend said - writers die, their stories don’t -makes me a little content.

Farewell, Ainee Apa. May God keep you happy wherever you are..

Black and white photo is by Prashant Panjiar - the others were taken by me

Shahzada Irfan has written this piece on the discovery of a hidden treasure at the Punjab University. Ancient Sanskrit manuscripts have finally come under researchers’ scrutiny. As we come closer to 60 years of partition and independence, this is a welcome development. Irfan writes:

A rich treasure of knowledge — an invaluable collection of 9,075 Sanskrit manuscripts on various branches and disciplines of Sanskrit literature — is lying unexplored in Punjab University (PU) library in Lahore since partition. Though they have been preserved properly for decades, hardly any effort was made in the past to study the contents of these manuscripts in detail. Insiders say this indifference was because that the state was least interested in seeking expertise of Sanskrit scholars in

India and sharing even an iota of knowledge with them..

Full article here