Cup of Tea At Nariman Point

A good many of once privileged people are bound to resent loss of the said privilege, if the privilege was dependent on grace of power of rulers rather than due to any intrinsic worth in the privileged. It is no different from a person of wealth losing all wealth, if the said wealth was given by someone else and the person cannot earn that back again, or someone in position of power without having earned it.

That explains the resentment of power of majority, for if the majority did rule in a democracy, the privileged minorities held up in positions of power and prestige in a bygone era of centuries of rule of minorities stand to lose all the privileges they held by merely being minority.

And that is even without any negative dealing with them, which they know aswell as anyone else they expect in lands across borders on every side f India. Even those that left at partition have migrated back albeit not openly and so have a number that were never here albeit illegally, for reasons of economic gain and a better life for themselves and their future generations. So the indigenous minorities are unlikely to leave for reasons of fear of majority or negative behaviour, because unless one has secured future in a rich western nation there is nowhere else togo for a better life - and often even compared with a rich western nation life is better in India. Where else would one have freedom of culture and not expect to have a headwear removed in public, not by a mob but by law?

If one wishes to see roots of such apprehensions as expressed by this speaker we are commenting on, try Not My Cup Of Tea. There the author is quite explicit about staying out of the mainstream and his alienation. Or one can imagine how the major minority felt at loss of power of Mughals at hands of British and never regaining it when they left.

So the shallow accusations against the majority which really are rants of a bunch of kids who fear the mom is going to be in charge rather than the bunch of kids who would love to wreak havoc.

Buddhism is not huge only because it is not held separate any more than Jain or even Sikh - they can be as separate as they like, or join the mainstream, as far as majority goes, including worship in temples.

Besides,why this hankering after being huge in numbers? Do large numbers prove superiority? Are drunken drivers superior to nobel prize winning scientists, because there are only a few of the latter and huge number of former?

As someone pointed out, in India it was settled with debates and one could always debate again, not with swords or death, and people finding their way back from sheen of Buddha's message of peace only in nirvana to India's more living reality of Divine was not done by anyone attacking. Or for that matter even by debates as far as masses go.

People are not idiots, and to answer someone who elsewhere points fingers at majority by saying godmen are proliferating due to majority, has he tried? People won't be fooled, and will flock only if there is something - unlike in faiths where messages supposedly from above are enforced with "convert or die now" campaigns, or even by temptations of various kinds.

Example, during famines a century or more ago churches offered rice to poor of China if they converted; they did, several times a day in different churches, and laughed about it.

Lament for a bygone era - by conquistadors that lost

The Mirror of Beauty 

by 

Shamsur Rahman Faruqi

A large part of Urdu literature and related mindset, from related social films in India to the general mindset of a section of the related society (and relatively not known for certain just how large that section is), is still stuck in a time warp of the era gone long before British empire took over,even now. There is nostalgia and more, a feeling of a right to rule India even, and resentment at that right being not handed over by the general populace at large willingly, the said general populace being still non Muslim, a huge defeat for the religion that converted a swath of known world from western Africa to central and parts of southeastern Asia in a short period of a century and then got mired in India, where victory in battlefields was easier than winning over minds, hearts and souls.

In fact this book is about the days of transition from Mughal rule in parts and other Islamic rulers in various parts, with few Hindu rulers here and there, all of this in the process of being taken over by the rule of East India company, and is mostly a lament about how beauty pervaded the Muslim world in every sphere from clothes to poetry, food to perfumes, manners and etiquette to living arrangements, and how it was all destroyed mindlessly by the new rulers.

This book is set in time that predates the first war of independence of India post which England or British empire in the name of the then new young queen Victoria took over rule of India, which in fact was the largest and most prized part of it.
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About painting and art and craft of India, music of India, carpets of India, poetry in Urdu (the name for language of commoners of court during Islamic rule in parts of India where official and court languages were Persian, Arabic and Central Asian while languages of India were as much despised by rulers as people of India), along with poetry in Persian and carpets of central Asia and more.

And about ghosts and spirits and men and women of Islamic culture who are only supposed to have emotions about their Prophet and his progeny, and not about their surroundings, but happen to fall in love with a portrait of a young woman of India supposedly not made from life since that would be a sin and offence in Islam against faith and the person portrayed and her family.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014.
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The story one is enticed with at the beginning, of a young Muslim woman from India of neither wealthy or so called noble family and nor of so called oldest profession either, who is pursued by a young Englishman of reasonably decent but not upper class background working for East India Company at a reasonably good level in India, and of her progeny and descendants until the present era, begins about post one fifth of the tale later, with her ancestry of the painter and other artisans preceding it. Here the narrative picks up a bit, with the spirited youngest child of the family protesting she is every bit as good and deserving of choosing a life for herself as a male, only to get herself a position of comfort but questionable legality and no standing in either English or Indian society of any good standing post her choice of living with the Englishman - neither side recognise the union legally, and few Englishmen do legalise it, and that only when they have given up any thought of returning to England.

But the curiosity the original description of the prologue had awakened, which is what kept one going until this point albeit a bit puzzled with the subsequent complete unrelatedness until it connects at this point with the figure of this young woman Wazir Khanum appearing finally, is now changed into a mixed bag of reactions and enchantment the author wishes to induce in the reader is missing by several miles if not by light years. And that too might come to pass.

Friday, May 23, 2014.
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The story becomes immensely more interesting after Wazir Khanum, the character one was introduced to within the first page and waited forever for to appear and finally met when a sixth or more of the narrative one had ploughed through with boring repetitions of long winded names and invocations of piety in midst of wine and women replete parties, has settled in Delhi - and met important figures of that era at a party thrown by the local British Resident (i.e., practically governor) of Delhi. Some of them are known since and much favourite too, particularly the famous poet Mirza Ghalib.

Sunday, May 25, 2014.
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If only there were a better editor for this, someone who could prune or shuffle the way the story is told, especially related to the first fifth or so part, the book would benefit and the reader not require quite so much determination to finish something that is so very tedious until then, and baffling too in that there seem to be three separate stories connected by a thread very thin until then. The story becomes increasingly gripping when the central character introduced during the first few pages makes her appearance post description of her ancestors' four or so generations from Rajasthan to Kashmir to Delhi, and then one begins to be mildly curious if this is related to history in surrounding details if not in the major characters. By the time one begins to suspect the main characters are historical as well, and hence the second part after the introduction describing the researching men and their meeting in the British library, and the protagonist at that point (the author of the book?) receiving papers from solicitors of the older man and encountering a ghost or spirit of the central character, Wazir Khanam.

After her third son and his poetry described and the nom the plume she gives him, it begins to dawn on one that this might be more historical than one thought, in that the main characters are historical too - Wazir Khanam being the mother of a famous poet Dagh of Urdu, and subsequently a bride of one of the princes of Delhi Mughal regime a few years before the regime was wiped out by the British taking over the country completely in all but name. They left a few hundred independent kingdoms in place, but that was merely a convenience for the British, so the administrative responsibilities and burdens could be reduced, a la their deal in Egypt in particular and the then Turkey in general, which - latter - was subsequently divided into over half a dozen nations.

Towards the end where she marries a prince, one gets a glimmer of a possibility that this figure is historical too, known in her own subsequent name Shaukat Mahal, bestowed by her new father in law the Mughal ruler. If only a better edited version had been published, or at least one with a preface to this effect, one might have read it with less tedium and more relaxed anticipation of the familiar pieces of history while being able to enjoy various long descriptions the author goes into while the tale is spinning off one is unsure about who, whether someone related to the character of Wazir Khanum introduced or a completely different one related only by a painting seemingly similar to one of her. And if a reader is not anxious in suspense of this sort, the tedium might have been enjoyment of the details instead.

Monday, June 2, 2014.
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The lack of coherence and the dispersed nature of the narrative at the beginning leaves one confused, and it is only later that the historic nature of the story begins to emerge; with a better editing of the tale as it is told a reader might be more interested and firmly rooted in spite of the long and detailed descriptions that dam the flow of the story routinely, and while the descriptions and details - descriptions of clothes, fabric, paint, paintings, carpets, buildings, architecture, music, ... in short every single detail one might notice at some point or other in life, and is of interest when a discourse about life and culture in a historical tale of a nation is concerned - have their own importance, the storytelling might improve if at the beginning one were not quite so fogged about what the author is trying to do.

As it is, one is unsure if this is one story or several related by a thread, well until one fifth of the story is over and the main character makes her appearance; the historicity is only apparent slowly as major historic characters and details begin to connect with the main characters of the story. And to top it all the book deals with major historic events in a peremptory fashion, mentioning them in passing or not at all, and very little or nothing of tumultuous happenings is given; at the end one is dissatisfied with quite so much not mentioned at all whether of history or the main story.

For example, on the story front, about Wazir Khanam's first two children, who are the link between the author or the person who furnished her portrait and other papers according to first few chapters, little or nothing is mentioned at all after she has to leave them in care of their British relatives who then refuse to allow them to meet. On the history front it would be of interest to know the events after the point where the author ends the story, and more. And even in the main tale much is left out where the story ends.

One wonders if the author was tired out writing, or the book was too long and the publishers insisted on trimming it. In which - either - case it would benefit tremendously by cutting short the repeated long and very boring paragraph long adjectives used for the so called nobility of Muslims every time one is mentioned, until one gets used to not reading them at all. This overemphasis on a verbal kowtowing to every such character by the author works more towards breeding contempt for the whole outlook of this attitude, rather than any possible interest, and far from any glamour or sheen one might feel. One rather gets the feeling that it was a good thing this whole set with this attitude received a setback. And the emphasis on one particular ruler clan being chief in the land, with author's attitude of presenting others as interlopers - never mind that it was those he reveres that were actually outsiders and those he paints as not quite deserving due to not being of foreign origin that were of India and hence with more right to be there in any capacity at all - has the same effect.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014.
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Some of the details of life of upper class or normal Muslim life as mentioned here are limited to just that - Muslim society, upper class or otherwise. The author neglects to mention this detail, and perhaps assumes it applies to all India, but it emphatically does not, and what is more it would horrify anyone of culture stemming from India rather than a desert or cold land far away in another part of the huge continent of Asia.

In the process of describing Wazir Khanum's union with her second lover the author describes as his habit much about clothes and this time some description of changing habits is given. The author states that normal people would wear a set of clothes for three to four days and then send it for wash, and upper class would wear expensive clothes some seven or eight times and then give them away rather than send them for wash.

This last is perhaps, at most, true of his society, but definitely would be considered unclean, not to mention silly and extravagantly wasteful to the extent of sin by wasting money that could be used better for family or even charity, by general Indian society. As for normal people and clothes, what is considered proper in general Indian society is to bathe every morning (post other cleansing inner and outer), wear fresh washed clothes, and have any clothes worn until then washed, usually at home, whether by someone employed for the purpose or a member of the family - and in middle class with good habits inculcated, usually everyone washes one's own used clothes before one bathes, and hangs them out to dry (drying being a matter of few hours) after dressing in fresh clothes.

Expensive clothes might be sent out for cleaning, or cleaned by a specialist employed, but again, wearing them several times would be considered unclean (if one is not given to aping ruling class fashions as a lot of people are), and giving them away for no good reason (such as their being worn out or given to someone such as a comparatively poor relative) sin against wealth and the Giver of all one has.

But these seem to be minor in comparison with what is more of a horror, a description of water room of most Muslim homes as given by the author. This seems to combine not only drinking and bathing water in one place along with other drinks, but also facility for relieving oneself, something that would make general Indian recoil in horror.

In most of normal homes in India, which is to say not the one room tenements of slums of cities and even those, eating and drinking places and objects are strictly separated from any relieving facilities, with not only walls but if possible by distance, away from the main house and from entrance. This is in accordance with the outhouse concept of western mode, and in India even bathing was separated from relieving facility with the former being within home while the latter out and far if possible, and separated at the very least if not. For that matter even in Germany (and perhaps in most of Europe) the toilet in the bathroom is used only for minor purposes, with the separate one aired much more used for serious ones.
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At another point or more than one, the author through his characters and otherwise points at how the then ascendant foreign rulers were deliberate in despising and breaking the rules, the civil codes and more of the previous society and rulers, i.e., of Mughals in particular and Islamic upper class or culture in general. It is ironic in slightly wider perspective in more than one way - the author takes no note of the fact that this is merely a hardship now visited on those that had done the same to India in the name of their own culture and faith for centuries before, in every way possible; and, moreover, that the new foreign rulers were doing it also to India in general, not merely to Muslims, he completely neglects to mention. Or perhaps even to notice?

Tuesday, May 27, 2014.
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Faruqi attempts to make it all enchanting and so forth, with copious descriptions and that too in lyrical style of courtly Urdu translated into English, but it does not translate well, far from it - it is tedious to read and one needs grit and determination to go on with it. What is worse it is incorrect in details of geography and history and spirit of people, so much so as to make it false, so one wonders if in writing this tale it is merely an attempt on part of the writer to do propaganda of his faith and culture in a (very) thinly veiled manner, to lure people via claims of beauty not quite all that visible once inside the cover, and not that much on the cover either.

That he uses a famous work of art of India, a portrait from Rajasthan of Kishengadh school or style of painting, makes it no better, any more than his descriptions of beauty of Kashmir (which he thinks he is subtle in insisting is not part of India even when Lahore and all the rest of the since partitioned part was, right up to 1947), by mentioning India over and over as separate, albeit Lahore not quite so much. Such anomalies he is as unable to think through as he is of looking at a map to see precisely what direction various places he mentions are with respect to one another. Not always, just enough to make one suspect he is in fact incapable of reading one, and is being trifled with by an assistant used for the purpose whose sense of humour comes through in this way.

But to mistake the spirit of Maratha independence and to portray their rule in the way he does is nothing short of wishful black washing of history and people that will invoke mere derision for his attempt. If any of them read this that is, which is sort of unlikely. If they did the book is likely to become a party joke at all sorts of youth events. That should take the sting out of serious disapproval from seniors and scholars.

One of the most shocking and disgusting descriptions involves a father slaying a daughter, her head cut off in public, because she is portrayed by a painter with accurate details of her face, and this involves dishonour of the ruler who is the father - who the writer gives as a Hindu, rather than Muslim, ruler of the region where the Kishengarh paintings are from. The daughter is shamed before the people before she is questioned why she allowed someone to look at her face, and her head cut off before she can answer, which she disdains to do - and one may very well conclude she had never before been seen by anyone outside her immediate family, since she maintains her pride and righteousness. In all likelihood the painting is traditional and if it portrays anyone it is someone long dead, whom the young girl happens to look like for a reason or without one.

Again, it takes a determination without reason to further torture oneself to read it after this, but it comes very early in the book and is unrelated to the story told until then about two scholars interested in research and details of lives of obscure Urdu poetry and poets.

Incidentally the word Urdu literally is related to a particular variety of daal (daal being dry beans consumed on everyday twice basis through India including its partitioned parts), one that happens to be black and white - black skin and white interior; so it is the language of those that happen to have black skin but are white in their heart, as per courts of Islamic rulers of India; i.e., those rulers and their non Indian court is held superior due to being not quite so dark, and local people despised due to being dark.

This racism continues in Pakistan, even within families, with those who can afford to do so whitewashing their future generations by marrying "white" women from as far as Europe, according to another writer from that part of what was until a few decades ago still India. Yet another writer mentions how dark people were preferred in ancient India until foreign rule, but that probably is merely true in that people were not despised or looked down on for skin colour, rather than any preference of colour of any part of skin or hair or eyes, one way or another.

So the eulogising of Urdu which usually goes with hidden or not quite so hidden despising of any other - every other - Indian language is a relic of racist courts of a rule that culminated in European rule superimposing and substituting for other non Indian rulers of India. Which again is in harmony with attempt to impose one's own faith over the world, and to wipe out any other thought or perception. Fortunately this failed in India, although it succeeded in most of the world, and in parts of India too - after all a sword is as tempting to avoid at any cost when pointed at one's throat as a piece of bread is to avail for a starving poor whose normal share of harvest is taken away for feeding the soldiers of the colonial foreigner ruler. Such famines have been known in Ireland as much as in India. Yet the conversion attempts succeeded far less in both places.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014.
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A telling point about the racism of the Islamic rule is a small detail evident in the book - the author, through the characters of 19th century and presumably others of the ilk of previous centuries were only more so, use the word "Hindi" for the language that was until then in courts of Islamic rulers and is now universally called Urdu, wiping out any possible recognition of the fact that India has well over a dozen major languages and over ten times that many dialects, many for each of the major languages, and that this language they spoke was superimposed heavily with foreign languages of the neighbourhood and not really what Indian people spoke but was a commoners' version of what Muslims considered respectable languages, which amounts to scant respect if any at all for any Indian language, much less for the rich ancient culture.

Sunday, May 25, 2014.
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And just in case anyone might possibly mistake him of any sympathy or loyalty towards India rather than the conquerors from nearby lands within Asia who superimposed their languages and culture far more than the latter British, he spends about a page in praise of a Mughal (really this line was only Mughal or Mongol through a daughter of one, and it was Europe that called them Mughals while they themselves did not to begin with, being familiar with the distinction) who butchered not only his own brothers elder or otherwise, but imprisoned his father too, in quest of power and throne; who is known for having banned music, and for his own people (by which it is clear it was not the locals he despised but his own faith and culture) took out a procession to mourn demise of Music.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014.
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One of the parts describes thugs and their ways about the time before British government took over from the until then rule of East India Company. After describing the unsafe circumstances and state of road travel that then existed and the grisly murders including that of the third husband of Wazir Khanam, the author proceeds to explain thugs and their beliefs and practices. In this process he gives a lore that is a deep part of culture of India and is an ancient Indian legend, of Bhavani, the Mother Goddess - only, post the point of her having vanquished demons and saving the universe, here it is distorted beyond recognition in both spirit and as it is known through India.

It is unclear if the distortion given here by the author of the legend of Bhavani, the Mother Goddess of pantheon of Indian culture from ancient times on and very alive, is really a tradition of the beliefs of the thieving murderers - literal meaning of thugs - or else the author is embellishing it for delight of all those that would have it that culture was brought to India by outsiders and not more than a few centuries ago at that, which conveniently allows such foreign rulers and their rule to be forgiven for all their atrocities and travesties of justice.

And the author after all is all praises for the infamous Aurangzeb and his rule known for despotic nature that gave rise to various attempts to free India from such rule, while mentioning the benign and universally respected Akbar mostly in tandem with the marauding Babar who never liked India and really wanted to rule central Asia as a matter of conviction of a divine mandate for his role in life - only, this belief was shared by his multitude of cousins who routed him out repeatedly, and he turned south to India and hated it.

Akbar on the other hand was vastly different, but is less respected by the author and his ilk for perhaps being less of a tyrant and more of a benign ruler for all of his people including Indians, rather than dividing his benefic and opposite aspects along lines of whether someone was of Indian ancestry and culture or foreign and granting automatic superior status to latter as most foreign rulers did until then - and, it seems, well into their twilight when it was turn of British to rule. Then, of course, the erstwhile upper class complained of the British unfair treatment meted out to them - and judging from this work the author is in sympathy and accord with those attitudes.

Monday, June 2, 2014.
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