One of the things I find unique about Bengaluru is its tradition of public celebrations and ceremonial processions that have come to occupy a permanent space on the city calendar. These demonstrations often define community identity and unite its past with the present; ancient agrarian festivals (Kadle Kai Parishe) reclaim modern suburbs, temple and church `car festivals’ mark ritual routes across the city (Poo Pallakki and St Mary’s Feast), ooru habbas recall rural antecedents and the Karaga procession re-imagines a lost community identity. The events are marked by active public participation and are a valuable reminder of the all-encompassing nature of our city.
Hosur Road’s annual Ashura juloos (procession) too occupies a significant place on this list. While Johnson Market (a heritage municipal market in the area) is known primarily for its kebab joints, hole in the wall chai cafe’s and eateries, once a year, the coal burns here not for the epicureans, but for the pious. Sounds of mourning rent the air at public and private gatherings (majlis) in the locality as sombre men and women dressed in black gather during the holy month of Muharram, the first in the lunar Islamic calendar to commemorate the tragic Battle of Karbala. Men walk over coals in the symbolic fire walk or ‘aag ka matam’ on the 9th night and the grieving intensifies in a juloos (procession) on Ashura, the 10th and culminating day of battle.
The procession moves from Arab Lines near Johnson Market towards the 19th century Persian Shia Cemetery on Hosur Road. The road is closed to traffic. Sacred Alams, symbolising ancient battle standards, are carried. Nauhas and Marsias (elegiac poetic genres) are recited over loudspeakers. Children climb astride the Zuljenah, symbolising the Imam’s faithful horse, for blessings. A young man weeps as he carrys a blood-stained cradle. Curious bystanders watch the synchronised breast beating of the `matam’, a ritualistic sign of mourning. Zanjeers (blades attached to chains) connect with skin. The community understands its significance. It is a symbolic reliving of the battle, a personal declaration of solidarity with the martyrs.
The juloos has been a part of our cityscape for over a century. It finds its roots in the 7th century, a turbulent time in the history of Islam. Racked by schisms and discord, the tribes turned upon each other in a relentless quest for power. While on his way from Mecca to the town of Kufa in Iraq in 61 AH (around 681 CE) with his army-entourage, Imam Hussein, son of Imam Hazrat Ali Ibn Abi Talib and grandson of the holy Prophet Mohammed, was intercepted by the opposing army of the Ummayid Caliph and tyrant, Yazid I. Vastly outnumbered, they were denied food and water before being massacred on the scorching sands of Karbala. Hapless women and children from the Prophet’s household were then subjected to unparalleled atrocities.
The narrative is filled with powerful themes like pre-determination, martyrdom, suffering and sacrifice. It is renewed annually with fresh emotional intensity as Hosur Road transforms into a site of symbolic meaning – a blood drenched battlefield.
Across the country, non-Muslims too participate in Muharram rituals. They make paper ‘Tazias’ and offer water and `sharbat’ to processions. Poets of all faiths write eloquent elegiac poetry-nauhas and marsiyas. Several Islamic sects in Bangalore also commemorate it in different ways. The Ashurkhanas (shrines) and Imambaras are open to people of all faiths. Ashura blurs the distinctions between castes and communities. The language of grief is universal.
The writer is a cultural documentarian and blogs at aturquoisecloud.wordpress.com
source: http://www.bangaloremirror.com / Bangalore Mirror / Home> Columns> Others / by Aliyeh Rizvi, Bangalore Mirror Bureau / November 02nd, 2014