Asif’s mantra, “My life is the purpose of everyone’s work,” resonates deeply within his rich personality. Dr. Khan aptly encapsulates Asif’s unwavering commitment to illuminating the path of education and eradicating societal darkness, echoing the sentiment that Asif’s life is dedicated to serving others.
In the landscape of educators, Asif Iqbal stands as a beacon of inspiration and dedication, reshaping the conventional norms of teaching and community engagement. While the average routine for most teachers comprises daily duties and personal engagements, Asif Iqbal, a 41-year-old teacher, exemplifies an extraordinary commitment that extends far beyond the traditional roles.
His passion for teaching goes beyond the classroom walls. Asif’s dedication spans across various domains, including social work, promotion of Urdu language and literature, active political participation, and tireless efforts toward educational empowerment. Unlike many, his primary focus lies in the upliftment of students and communities, striving to instigate positive transformations in their lives.
Embarking on his journey after completing a Diploma in Education, Asif began his career at a Zilla Parishad primary school in 2001. However, it was his departure from a secure government job in 2010 that marked a pivotal shift. At the young age of 28, he joined a renowned government-aided school in his city, ultimately rising to the position of Head Master at the SSA Urdu Primary School in Solapur.
His responsibilities extend far beyond the confines of an educational institution. As the spokesperson for the City Indian National Congress committee and President of the Lions Club Solapur (Classic), Asif actively engages in diverse social and political roles. Additionally, his affiliations with organizations like the All India Human Rights Association, Khidmate Khalq Organization of India, and various literary bodies underline his multifaceted contributions.
Asif’s devotion to education and his compassionate approach have earned him immense popularity among students and parents alike.
Maaz A. Gafoor Sagri, one of his brightest students currently preparing for NEET, hails Asif as a motivator who consistently creates platforms for students to showcase their talents. Despite the school’s substantial size of nearly 2000 students, Asif manages to establish personal connections with a vast majority, prioritizing character and behavior development.
Dr. A.A. Pagan, a PTA member of the school, lauds Asif Iqbal for his administrative prowess, capacity for work, and forward-thinking attitude. According to Dr. Pagan, Asif’s initiatives have brought about positive changes and regular personality development activities within the school.
In a conversation with Muslim Mirror, Asif reflects on the dearth of educational infrastructure in his city, especially for the substantial Muslim population. He laments the absence of universities and well-equipped campuses, emphasizing the need for investments in education over commercial endeavors like land development and construction projects.
Highlighting the broader educational landscape in Maharashtra, Asif points out the scarcity of institutions offering higher and professional education, while acknowledging the few notable ones like PA Inamdar University in Pune and Anjuman E Islam in Mumbai.
Asif’s vision extends beyond his current commitments. He expresses a strong desire to build an Asian Minority University, a dream he is diligently working towards with the acquisition of a 100-acre land. This envisioned educational hub aims to become a center for Indian Muslims, fostering educational growth and empowerment.
His influence on Urdu literature and poetry is equally significant. As a host to numerous All India Mushairas, including prestigious events like the Delhi Urdu Academy in the presence of Delhi’s Deputy Chief Minister Manish Sisodia, Asif has actively contributed to nurturing Urdu literary talents.
Despite commendations for his leadership potential in politics, Prakash Wale, a senior Congress Party leader, advocates for Asif’s continued presence in the education sector, acknowledging its need for individuals like Asif Iqbal, while cautioning about the intricate nature of politics.
Dr. Asadullah Khan, an eminent figure in the education realm, celebrates Asif Iqbal as a catalyst for educational and social transformation in Solapur. Recognizing Asif’s multifaceted abilities as an educator, poet, and orator, Dr. Khan commends his dedication to service and highlights Asif’s poetic work, “Naya Asman,” as a significant contribution to the world of literature.
Asif’s mantra, “My life is the purpose of everyone’s work,” resonates deeply within his rich personality. Dr. Khan aptly encapsulates Asif’s unwavering commitment to illuminating the path of education and eradicating societal darkness, echoing the sentiment that Asif’s life is dedicated to serving others.
This expansion not only delves deeper into Asif Iqbal’s multifaceted contributions but also elaborates on his vision, impact, and the endorsements he has received from various stakeholders within the education, social, and political spheres.
source: http://www.muslimmirror.com / Muslim Mirror / Home> Education> Positive Story / by Imran Inamdar / December 19th, 2023
If Dr Bhupen Hazarika is known as the Bard of the Brahmaputra, Imran Shah is the Nawab of Assamese literature. Known for his powerful writings, this soft-spoken and shy doyen is one of the literary giants of Assam. Imran Shah, 90, invariably wears a smile on his face and flashes it even to strangers. Honoured with the Padma Shri in 2021, Imran Shah, a wizard in wordplay, the poet, lyricist, writer, novelist, playwright, scholar and educationist has enriched Assamese literature with his works.
He is generally called the Nawab of Assamese writing but he also writes under the pen names Ishan Dutta, Anamika Baruah, Kumbhakarna, and Animesh Baruah. He has also been conferred with the Assam Valley Literary Award (2009) by Magor Education Trust, Ajan Pir Award (2008) by the government of Assam, Sahityarathi Lakshminath Bezbarua Award (2022), Sabdwa Sahitya Award, Syed Abdul Malik Award (2013), Rangpur Gaurav Award (2016), Bor Asom Samannoy Award (2021) and many more for his contributions to the Assamese literature. He has so far published his 19 Novels, innumerable short stories, and poetry collections and many more manuscripts are ready to go to press.
Imran Shah with Rajib Dutta
Born on 23 November 1933 at Dhai Ali, Sivasagar, Imran Shah rates Assamese literature as the best in contemporary India. He says three Assamese litterateurs have so far been awarded the – Jnanpith – India’s highest award in litterateur. This distinction is achieved by no other Indian language so far. The former Asam Sahitya Sabha president is disappointed to see the lack of promotion of Assamese literature. He feels Assamese literature is still facing a lack of patronage as far as publishing is concerned. The ‘Assamese by heart and soul’ is also unhappy with the government trying to create a divide in the Assamese society – majority, minority, indigenous, etc.
Awaz-The Voice caught up with Imran Shah for a tête-à-tête at his Dhai Ali residence in Sivasagar town in eastern Assam. Excerpts:
To begin with, please tell us what inspired you to take up the pen and paper.
It all started during my school days (at Sibsagar Govt HS & MP School) when I used to compose poems for my friends. I penned several short poems for them. However, I was not seriously into poetry at that time. Soon I gained confidence, and my first anthology Banavashi (1951) was published while I was in Class IX. (His classmate Liyakat Hussain was the publisher). Inspired by my friends in Class X, I wrote my first novel Sangeetor Hkhipaare (1952, again published by Liyakat Hussain).
Soon after my college life started, I took up the pen to write seriously. My short story was published in Ramdhenu, then a highly influential Assamese literary magazine in 1957-58. Since then I have been writing without a break. I write whatever I like, and people give me a lot of love in return.
Which is your most prized work so far and why do you like it so much?
I have no answer because I love all my creations. If you ask me which one is your favourite creation, I would say I like all the short stories, novels, and poems I have penned. Based on contemporary psycho, I go on writing on varied subjects. I can’t answer which is my favourite.
A book on Imran Shah’s writtings
For which work you had to work the hardest and why?
Imran Shah: All of my creations needed equal efforts. I haven’t encountered any hardship in writing. Whenever I find myself free I sit down with my ink and paper. Whenever I have resources enough, I indulge in my habit (writing).
Do you feel recognitions came on time? Or was it late?
I don’t think so. I have never written for awards, prizes, and recognition. Based on my literary achievements, I have been awarded by the people. Only the readers reserve the right to evaluate me.
Belonging to a small community (Assamese Muslim) as far as number is concerned, how do you feel about your rise to the pinnacle of literature in Assam?
The question has pained me. I am neither a minority nor a majority. I am an Assamese by heart and soul. Why should I be singled out only for my name? Religion in personal belief. I always keep myself far away from the division of minority and majority. This kind of bifurcation harms the society. Presently it is also included in our textbooks. This is an irreparable injustice to the Assamese community and society. Any answer to this question can mislead our society.
Did you face any kind of hurdle during your accent to the position of president of Assam Sahitya Sabha?
There had not been any issue in my becoming the president of Asam Sahitya Sabha. My name was proposed by someone. Till then I was a person who would not step out of my home. I never campaigned or lobbied. I was elected the president with a majority of votes which was undoubtedly a big recognition of my work.
Imran Shah speaking as President of Assam Sahitya Sabha
What is your take on contemporary Indian literature?
Very bright, Assamese literature is lagging due to a lack of publishers. No publisher at all! The writers are publishing themselves. There are a large number of colleges and universities in Assam. I don’t understand why those institutions don’t come forward to publish. One of my stories, Etuku Dukh was translated into Hindi by a former professor of Banaras Hindu University Dr Charbey. After three months, the story was translated into English with the title A Piece of Sadness. Later on, it was translated into Bengali, Telegu, Tamil, Malayalam, and other languages of the world. Besides my short stories Morom, Yudha, and other select stories were published in various Indian languages. You see if my works or those of Syed Abdul Malik and Saurav Chaliha get translated into different Indian languages, the Assamese language can gain a lot.
Where do you think is Assamese literature placed in the contemporary Indian literary scenario?
It’s in definitely number one. You know Jnanpith is the highest literary award in India and it has been conferred on 3 Assamese writers, namely Birendra Kumar Bhattacharya, Dr Mamoni Roisom Goswami alias Indira Goswami, and Nilamani Phukan. Then why do we suffer from an inferiority complex? Can anyone take away that position from us?
How can Assamese literature grow further?
Our publishing agencies are very weak. There is no publisher to publish and that can lead to the development of Assamese literature. They do only business. In developed countries, the universities have their publications and this is something we lack in our country. Even during British rule, the PhD thesis of Dr Moidul Islam Borah, the first Assamese doctorate, was published by the then-education department of Assam. The developed nations have a culture of patronizing literature which we have to emulate.
Although Assam’s population comprises over 34% Muslims, the Assamese Muslim community is still a negligible minority as far as numbers are concerned. The present Assam government has recognized 5 ethnic groups of Assamese Muslims as indigenous. What is your take on it? How should the government take it forward to develop the community?
I think otherwise. Those who are concerned with these issues, let them solve it. I do never take part in any kind of conflict arising out of the issue and shall never claim as majority, minority, or indigenous. My forefathers have passed away living here as Assamese. I also think of myself as an Assamese from the core of my heart. The government should not take any initiative, especially for the minorities. They should be made part of the all-round development process meant for all the communities. Then all would prosper.
source: http://www.awazthevoice.in / Awaz, The Voice / Home> Stories / by Rajib Dutta, Sivasagar / December 19th, 2023
In your final rest
on a rope-cot,
were you still dreaming
of a piece of bread?
Beloved one,
we the people
of this country,
of that country,
can make anything
but a piece of bread
for you.
--Evening with a Sufi: Selected Poemsby Afsar Mohammad, translated from the Telugu by Afsar Mohammad & Shamala Gallagher, Red River Books, 2022.
These lines send shivers down the spine and recreate an empathetic longing for immigrant souls in search of succour. They also swiftly draw an image laced with poignancy — a loss, a regret, the economics that deny innovative young men their keep and force immigration in search of sustenance. Would the poet have been one of them?
Travelling from a small village in the South Indian state of Telangana, Afsar Mohammad has journeyed across continents and now teaches South Asian Studies at the University of Pennsylvania. Known as a trendsetting poet and literary critic for post-1980s Telugu literature, Afsar has brought out five volumes of poetry, one collection of short stories and two volumes of literary theory essays. He is also a distinguished scholar of Indian studies and has published extensively with various international presses, including Oxford and Cambridge. He is currently working on a translation of Sufi poetry from Telugu to English. In this interview, we trace his growth as a writer and editor of the webzine, Saranga, which now seems to be transcending linguistic barriers to give voice to multiple cultures…
Tell us about your journey as a writer. When and how did it start?
It’s a long story, but to cut it short — the beginnings were somewhat puzzling… Inspired by Shakespearean sonnets, I first wrote some sonnets in English, and then switched to free verse. Since most of my friends in my high school started pushing me to write something in Telugu, I had to migrate to Telugu. Quite surprisingly, I was first published in English, and then it took me a while to get something published in Telugu. I had hard time getting published in Telugu due to its newness in expressions and most editors felt that there was nothing “Telugu” in that kind of writing. So, my early writings quite naturally found their home in some English journals!
Your poetry rings with the pain of distance, the pain and struggle from others’ suffering transcending your own self. What is the source of your inspiration — is it your past or your present?What affects you more — your being an immigrant or a Sufi?
We’re distanced by many things — not just physically! We live in many shattered and scattered worlds, and sometimes we fail to reflect on those worlds. I feel like I’m a constant immigrant — despite my formal citizenship and legal boundaries. Sufism is merely a segment of this expansive realm. Both past and present define our destiny, right?! Of course, I try to live in the present rather than in the past, but never deny the baggage of the past.
Why do you subscribe to the Sufi school of poetry? What is Sufism all about?
I come from an extremely local rural setting where such Sufi mystical practices openly defined my everyday life. It’s not about the technicalities and theories or institutionalised Sufi schools of their philosophies, this is more about what I learned from my childhood, and its physical surroundings dotted by several hybrid shrines. I’ve described this cultural setting in my 2013 Oxford University Press publication, The Festival of Pirs: Popular Islam and Shared Devotion in South India. This version of Sufism has more to do with everyday life rather than a spiritual domain.
You have lived away from your country for long, and yet the past seems to still haunt you. What is the identity you seek as a poet? Is it necessary to have a unique identity or can one be like a drop that flows and moulds as per the needs of the vessel?
In a way — physically– I’m away from my birth place, but in many ways, I’m also closer to my homeland than in my past. When I moved away from the actual picture, I see many dimensions from a new lens. Each dimension contributed to my rethinking and reconsidering the idea of India. As I wander around and meet totally different places and people, I learn more about my birthplace and moved a little closer to it. I totally understand this as a process to reconcile with the past and connect it to a new present intensified by many factors, not just personal. We’re living in a virtual world, which also looks like “real” in its sounds, colours and words. Every moment it makes me realise that I’m actually not that far. On the other hand, I also see the people in my homeland who are far more removed by their immediate reality and everyday experiences. We need to read this conditionality more in terms of perspective rather than physical distance.
You are fluent in Telugu, Urdu and English. You started writing in English and then moved to Telugu. And all your poetry collections have been in Telugu. Why? Would the outreach of English not have been wider? What made you pick Telugu over English?
Great question! My literary graph is neither linear nor simplistic. When I look back and reflect on it, it’s a quite messy roadmap — actually, there’s nothing like a map to get its contours. Yes, I started writing in English and then suddenly stopped sending out the poems to magazines. In fact, I write more in my personal journals rather than in print journals. Theoretically, I saw poetry as a personal diary for my experiences for many years. Due to financial concerns within my family, I had to start working very early on and left most of my journals at home. Then, my friends found them by chance and put them together that became my first collection of poems in Telugu. The collection was an instant success for its innovative style and then that opened up my career in Telugu rather than English which was my first language of literary expression.
You are now bringing out a bi-lingual online magazine, Saranga? What made you think of a magazine in two languages?
Before entering into teaching career, I worked as an editor of the literary supplement and Sunday magazine for a largest circulated Telugu newspaper. When we moved to the USA, I thought it would be better to have some outlet to engage with my home language and literature. In the early phase, Saranga was primarily a Telugu webmagazine. When I started teaching South Asian literature, then I realised the importance of making Indian literary texts available to contemporary generation in the USA. That was just one reason, but there’re were many factors as our team saw a rise in the Indian diaspora writings in the new millennium. Luckily, we got wonderful support from writers and poets in various Indian languages. The humble beginnings have actually ended up as a rewarding experience.
What is it you look for in contributors from two languages? Is it the same guidelines or different?
We’re still learning how this works! As it appears now, these two sections require two different approaches and guidelines. Since the English section has been now attracting writers from various languages, it’s moving more towards a multi-lingual base. We’re trying to accommodate more translations into English from different Indian languages. We still need to do lots of work there.
Is the journal only aimed at South Asian diaspora or would you be extending your services to all cultures and all geographies?
Saranga, as we see it right now, is more about South Asia and its diaspora. As you know, we need more such spaces for South Asia and its diaspora. Not sure about its future directions at this point, however, if the situation demands, we will extend its services further.
You have number of essays and academic books in English. But all your creative writing is in Telugu. Why? Would you be thinking of writing in English too because proficiency in the language is obviously not an issue?
Most of my academic writing came out of my teaching experience. As I started teaching new courses, I then realised that we need more material from South Asia. I started focusing on producing such materials primarily for my courses and then gradually, they became useful for many academicians elsewhere too. I still believe creating writing as a more personal space — that enables me to articulate more about myself. However, the publication of Evening with a Sufi, brought a new change — as I’ve been getting more requests for more writing in English for the last two years. As you know pretty well, I’m an extremely slow writer.
How do you perceive language as a tool for a poet?
I see language working many ways since I dwell in multiple languages. I started my elementary education in Urdu, and my middle school was in Telugu, and the subsequent studies were in English. Through the last day of her life, my mother was extremely particular about me learning Arabic and Farsi. So, I believe that helped me so much to understand how language works in a poem. When I published my first poem in Telugu, the immediate critique was it was a not a “Telugu” poem. Telugu literary critics labelled me as a poet who thinks either in Urdu or English, then writes in Telugu. Of course, most of them were also fascinated by the new syntax of my Telugu poems and the new images and metaphors—that totally deviate from a normative or mainstream Telugu poem of those days. The uses of language in a poem varies for each poet. If you’re reading, writing and thinking in just “one” language, that might be a safe condition. A contemporary or modern poet, however, belongs to many languages and cultures. We also migrate from one language to another in our everyday life.
Do borders of nationalism, mother tongue and geographies divide or connect in your opinion? Do these impact your writing?
The response to this question might be an extension to the above conditionality of a person. Anyway, I’m not a big fan of those ideas of nationalism, mother tongue and singular geographies. They don’t exist in my world. Most of my writings both creative and academic contest such boundaries and borders. To describe this in a single term- borderless. In fact, I believe we’re all borderless, but unfortunately, many boundaries and borders are now being imposed on our personalities.
(The online interview has been conducted by emails by Mitali Chakravarty)
Rukhsar Sayeed wishes to see a lot more young Kashmiri girls and boys in MasterChef India.
Kashmir’s Rukhsar Sayeed.
A 34-year-old woman food entrepreneur has become the first contestant from Kashmir to participate in MasterChef India, a cooking reality show which is being broadcasted on SonyLIV.
Hailing from south Kashmir’s Pampore, where India’s 90 per cent saffron is cultivated, Rukhsar Sayeed has shown a tremendous culinary passion and determination by reaching among the top 12 contestants of the show.
“Breaking barriers and stereotypes I have finally made it to MasterChef India to fulfil my dream. I no doubt had culinary passion since I was a teenager, then the food-specialised education was also at my back but on top of all the support shown by my family was unwavering,” says Sayeed who is currently in Mumbai for the shooting of the show.”
Born and brought up in Srinagar’s Hyderpora, in the year 2010 Sayeed was watching the shows of MasterChef Australia from which she developed the culinary passion and decided to study food technology. “I am on the top of the world to see myself among the top 12 contestants of MasterChef India, the country’s favourite cooking reality show. I am really proud of where I am standing today. I am also overwhelmed to find the support of my family including my husband, parents and in-laws, ” Sayeed tells Moneycontrol.
Calling herself an avid foodie Sayeed has two children while her husband Saqib Javaid Qadri is an assistant executive engineer.
After completing B.Tech in food technology from Islamic University of Science and Technology, Awantipora Sayeed did M.Tech in food technology from Amity University and finally completed her PhD in food technology in 2020.
Sayeed has not only made J&K Union Territory proud by being selected to compete in the prestigious MasterChef India but also expressed her feelings through Kashmiri cuisine and eventually impressed the judges. “So far I had a roller-coaster ride with ups and downs in the kitchen like other contestants but I have made some very good dishes which impressed the judges sitting in the show. I am confident to become the winner of the show because for the first time Kashmiri food is being presented on a large platform. I am trying my best to innovate something with our Kashmiri food. For example, I made Rogan Josh, (mutton dish with red gravy) which apparently does not look Rogan Josh but it does taste like Rogan Josh.”
So far in 11 episodes Sayeed says she made mouth watering cuisines like Babri Boul Falouda (basil seeds drink) usually served during Ramadan in Kashmir, Kashmiri Dhaniwal Korma (lamb curry bursting with coriander) and Kashmiri Dodhe Aal (pumpkin chutney), mesmerizing the judges and celebrity chefs like Vikas Khanna, Ranveer Brar, and Pooja Dhingra.”
Her father M Sayeed Shah says, “It is a dream come true for the whole family. It is a great honour to see her in Masterchef India. I don’t have words to express my happiness. I wish a great future and good luck to my darling daughter.”
Her mother Naseema Kirmani while expressing her happiness says that she is the happiest person to see her daughter in MasterChef India and wishes her best of luck for the show.
Before reaching the MasterChef India show in 2019, Sayeed emerged as the first woman from the Valley to start a frozen food venture — Khalis Foods. “After doing my PhD I was not interested in conventional jobs and therefore I opened a startup to provide people with unadulterated snacks and other healthy foods mainly for children. I along with my six employees are operating from my home in Pampore.”
The young food technologist explains that she is getting to see some of the ingredients for the first time in her life. “I am using some ingredients which are new to me in various foods. For instance, I use some of the popular food ingredients from down south with Kashmiri food.”
Sayeed maintains that being a mother of two children the decision to become a part of Masterchef India show was not easy. “It was a big sacrifice to leave behind my two children at home and participate in the show in Mumbai. I miss my children a lot but I am confident that I will return home as the winner of the show.”
Before getting selected for Masterchef India, Sayeed had participated in the state-level culinary competition and bagged second position in the competition.
She had also served her homemade snacks at an exhibition held at Sheri Kashmir International Convention Centre (SKICC) Srinagar, tickling the taste buds of people around.
In June this year, Rukhsar went through a rigorous audition process before being among the 12 contestants.
For young techie, the MasterChef India journey is a stepping stone in realising her dream of setting up a culinary school in the Valley and creating a chain of restaurants to provide healthy food for the food lovers. “I hope this show can give me limelight and help to boost my food business venture, currently operating in Srinagar. I am also thinking of creating a chain of restaurants in the Valley to provide healthy dishes to people. As a food technologist I am fully conscious of the hazardous preservatives, taste enhancers and food colours that go into our daily food and which is why I lay emphasis on healthy, pure and safe food.”
Regarding her favourite food Sayeed names Hakh (collard green; the staple diet of Kashmir) and Wazwan, (Kashmir’s famous multi-course meal). “Every dish is special but I am in love with Kashmiri food, mainly Hakh especially prepared by my mother and Wazwan prepared by our amazing cook locally known as Waza. From the beginning of my childhood the dishes prepared by my mother in the kitchen have been unmatched.”
Sayeed wishes to see a lot more young Kashmiri girls and boys in MasterChef India. “Since I am the first Kashmiri woman who has reached the famous cooking reality show I would want more people from my homeland to come here and show their food skills.”
She also claims that despite facing criticism from the people in Kashmir she managed to participate in the show to represent the Kashmiri cuisine and culture to a larger audience.
source: http://www.moneycontrol.com / Money Control / Home> News> Trends> Lifestyle / by Irfan Amin Malik / November 05th, 2023
The anecdotes about chieftains and their chelas, the ode to Farrukhabad, and the art of expressing time through chronograms make Tarikh-i-Farrukhabad a compelling read.
Local histories of little-known provinces and sketches of its people are fascinating but hard to come by (Courtesy Lamat R Hasan)
Mufti Syed Waliullah Farrukhabadi’s Tarikh-i-Farrukhabad is written in Persian, a language I do not know.
But I made up my mind to read it when I found it being referenced in historical accounts of the decline of the Mughal dynasty – and in some detail in British historian William Irvine’s account of The Bangash Nawabs of Farrukhabad.
As a civil servant in India, Irvine learnt to read Persian, and started collecting manuscripts – including Waliullah’s (1751-1833). With some difficulty I traced Waliullah’s manuscript, written in 1829, measuring 10 inches by six inches, with exquisite gold inscriptions. Acquiring a digital copy of the manuscript was another task and then engaging a Persian instructor to help me wade through significant chunks.
Waliullah writes that after Delhi was invaded by the Marathas around 1757, many of the nobles from the former Mughal capital sought shelter in Farrukhabad, named after Farrukhsiyar, the tenth Mughal emperor. It was Nawab Mohammad Khan Bangash who founded the city in 1714. It was also home to a lot of holy men and referred to as “Faquirabad” (the land of ascetics). With the setting up of a mint in 1803, it became an important centre of commerce and was known for its superior quality of silver and gold coins.
The title of the book is a little misleading as Waliullah’s work doesn’t quite fit into the genre of microhistory. Though his focus is on Farrukhabad, the scope of his work is not restricted to the town or the tiny settlements around it, its chieftains and their chelas (followers), but covers the decline of the Mughal empire and the rise of British imperialism as well.
The little anecdotes about the chieftains and their chelas, the shair-o-shairi, such as an ode to Farrukhabad, the town Waliullah moved to from Sandi as a nine-year-old, and the art of expressing time through trsim waqt or chronograms (a sentence in which letters interpreted as numerals stand for a specific date) make for a compelling read.
Lamat R Hasan (Courtesy the subject)
Waliullah informs that the tomb of poetess Gunna Begum (wife of a vizier in the Mughal empire and daughter of a famous Iranian poet) bears a trsim waqt which translates as “Alas! Gunna Begum”. Other chronograms mention date of births or deaths such as “Hai, Hai, Hatim Tai séni na mand”, which is interpreted as 1771. Incidentally, Waliullah’s own date of death was derived from a chronogram – “Ganj-z-ma’ni ba-raft zer zamin” – inscribed by his contemporary Bahadur Ali Syed.
Other fascinating details include the inventions of the qutub-nama (magnetic compass), doorbeen (binoculars), and the types of weapons the British possessed to conquer new lands.
Local histories of little-known provinces and sketches of its people are fascinating but hard to come by – no surprise then that I devoured the very pages Irvine critiqued as “biographies of obscure Muhammadan worthies who lived in, or had visited Farrukhabad”.
Lamat R Hasan is an independent journalist. She lives in New Delhi.
source: http://www.hindustantimes.com / Hindustan Times / Home> News> Books / by Lamat R Hasan / December 22nd, 2023
The winner of ‘MasterChef Season 8’ is Mohammed Aashiq, who fought against Suraj Thapa, Rukhsaar Sayeed, and Nambie Jessica Marak in the finale.
MasterChef India Season 8 unveiled the winner on Friday. ( Image Source : X/@ranveerbrar )
New Delhi:
The long-running Indian cooking competition MasterChef has finally come to an end. After eight weeks of delicious challenges, Mohammed Aashiq emerged as the winner of the show. The talented home chefs are mentored by Vikas Khanna, Ranveer Brar, and Pooja Dhingra in thrilling competitions.
Mohammed Ashiq, a 24-year-old contestant, wins MasterChef India’s eighth season. He takes home a coat, the trophy, and a cash reward of Rs 25 lakh. Rukhsaar Sayeed and Nambie Jessica, two home chefs, and Suraj Thapa competed in an exciting finale. Nambie and Rukhsaar won second and first runner-up, respectively.
On social media, judge Ranveer Brar sent his congratulations to Mohammed Ashiq. He wrote, “From an inspirational start to a challenging journey, you never stopped daring for more. Congratulations on becoming the MasterChef Mohd. Ashiq!”
Aashiq sent a press statement and discussed his feelings. “I am immensely grateful for the whirlwind journey I’ve had on MasterChef India. From facing elimination to holding the trophy, every moment was a profound lesson. This experience has completely reshaped my life, and winning this esteemed title feels surreal.”
He added, “Coming back with stronger determination after narrowly missing out last season was tough, but I devoted myself entirely to the culinary craft. This victory isn’t just mine; it’s for every dreamer who defies the odds to chase their aspirations. I owe immense gratitude to the judges- Chef Vikas, Ranveer, and Pooja, fellow contestants, the audience, and all the renowned chefs who pushed me to perform better with each passing day in the kitchen. I’ve grown significantly and noticed a remarkable shift in my cooking skills, all thanks to an incredible boot camp experience.”
Instagram ashiqrex
Who is Mohammed Aashiq?
Mohammed is originally from Mangalore, Karnataka. At the time when Aashiq entered the MasterChef India competition, he was the owner of a juice shop in his village called Kulukki Hub. By combining his passion for cooking with his talent for creating one-of-a-kind meals, Mohammed has been able to support his family financially.
source: http://www.news.abplive.com / ABP Live / Home> Entertainment> TV / by ABP News Service / December 08th, 2023
Zareefa Jan has created a “language of circles” to help her document her poems. Only she can decode them.
Zareefa Jan handed me a piece of paper on which several circles were scribbled in pencil. It was only on closer look that I could make out the small differences between them – some were larger, some were not as perfectly circular, some were closer to each other, some seemed circled over and over again. They were laid out neatly in a line. As I continued trying to decipher them, she fished out a pencil and added some lines of circles on a fresh piece of slightly crumpled paper – writing from right to left, the way Urdu and Kashmiri scripts are written.
“Nobody in the world can read those lines except my mother,” Shafaat Lone, Zareefa’s son, told VICE.
Those “lines” are actually Zareefa’s very own coded language, one that she has developed as a means to archive her poetry.
“Nobody in the world can read those lines except my mother, “Shafaat Lone, Zareefa’s son told Vice.
The 65-year-old sufi poetess living in north Kashmir’s Bandipora district in India never went to school. And so, even though she can speak her native Kashmiri language, she can’t read or write in it.
Sufism is a mystical form of Islam, an unorthodox school of practice that focuses more on the esoteric aspects of religious life, and in which Sufis strive for direct, personal experiences with God.
“This is my language, the language of circles,” she tells me proudly. “I’ve developed it over the years.”
Zareefa’s initiation into poetry started a few years after she got married, when she was in her late thirties. She had gone to fetch water from a nearby brook, when she claims she lost all sense of the world around her and fell into a kind of a trance. When she came to, she’d lost her pitcher, but also felt like a different person altogether.
“When I regained my senses, a gazal just came out of my mouth,” she said.
A “gazal” is a poem or an ode that originated in Arabic poetry, and often has to do with themes like love, longing and loss. “Until then, I had no idea of what poetry was because I had never read it. But ever since, I have written hundreds of poems and gazals.”
(I didn’t destroy my youth as a fire kept nourishing me. My youth is insubstantial in the transient world.)”
Zareefa reading out one of her poems
When Zareefa realised that she had a penchant for poetry, her children were in school. They were learning how to read and write in English and Urdu. But her poems would come to her in Kashmiri – a neglected language whose use is declining, even in Kashmir.
“It would have been futile and unjust to ask them to learn another language. And who would have taught them? Kashmiri, as a subject, was not part of their school curriculum like English and Urdu,” she said. “Also, I wasn’t sure whether to share my poetry with them at all.”
It took her a few years to muster the courage to tell, first, her husband, and then her children, about her poems. To her surprise, they were amazed at the content of the poems. However, she could memorise and remember only a few of her works; most were lost to memory since she had no way of documenting them.
Initially, Shafaat tried to record them on tape. Then, her elder daughter, Kulsum, tried to write them down with the little Kashmiri she knew. But Zareefa was unhappy with both ways of archiving.
If a thought occurs to Zareefa out of nowhere, she grabs the nearest pen and writes it down, even if its on her hand itself.
“I can’t take my children with me everywhere I go to read my poetry and ask them to whisper my own lines into my ear so that I can say them out loud for others,” she said. “Also, my children can’t be with me every time I have a thought and want to record it, either on tape or on paper.”
So, she devised another technique.
Whenever she had a thought, she’d grab a page and draw different shapes of things on it. Most of it would be literal. “If there was an apple as a word in my poem, I’d draw an apple; if there was a heart, I’d draw a heart,” she said.
Later, whenever her daughter had the time, Zareefa would decode those shapes and Kulsum would write down the poem in conventional script.
“But I am illiterate, and I had never held a pen before,” said Zareefa. “So everything I drew was just a different shape and size of a circle. Like, even if I drew a banana, it would be circular!”
Still, those odd, circular shapes proved to be a good cue for her to remember her lines until her daughter could note them down. That, however, came to a stop three years ago, with Kulsum’s sudden passing.
In grief, Zareefa neglected to document her poems for a time, until she decided to revisit those circular shapes.
Zareefa Jan while reading her coded poetry
She realised that the many years of assigning her own meaning to her circles meant she had created an alphabet of sorts. Only she could read it, but she was content with that. It’s not even a fixed lexicon where one shape always stands in for a particular meaning. It keeps evolving as she gives the circles meaning that only she can remember and decode.
Now, those pages filled with squiggly circles lie inside books that hold them together, a repository of some 300 poems she has thus written. Her family is trying to get them all published in both her coded scripture and its conventional transliteration side by side.
Some of her coded as well as decoded works
Some experts believe that Zareefa could well be the first poet in the world to have created her own alphabet to preserve her creations.
“As a student and teacher of poetry, I haven’t seen this kind of thing anywhere in the world of poetry,” said Seraj Ansari, an Urdu teacher. “If what she is saying is true, then she is probably the first poet in the world to do so.”
However, Zareefa’s son tells me how some people doubt his mother’s claim that her circles carry meaning that only she can decode. They suspect that she really remembers her poetry and only pretends to read it from her circles.
But one of the oldest and most revered sufi poets in Kashmir, Ab Kareem Parwana, believes Zareefa.
“No poet in the world can remember everything they have written,” he told VICE. “I have not seen or heard of anyone in my lifetime saying they remember their entire poetry collection. She is a mystic poet, and in mysticism, everything is possible.”
In a conversation with FII, Moumita Alam discusses how she began writing poetry, and what it is like being a Muslim woman in a Hindu majoritarian state and how the voices of certain minorities have been silenced throughout Indian history.
Moumita Alam is a teacher based in West Bengal whose political poetry, over the past few years, has gained incredible popularity in South Asia due to its powerful messages and themes. As a Muslim woman, through her poems, essays and opinion pieces, she attempts to bring out the atrocities faced by the women of her community alongside critiquing the larger issue of rising Islamophobia in India. Her first and only book, The Musings of the Dark was published in 2020.
In a conversation with FII, Moumita Alam discusses how she began writing poetry, what it is like being a Muslim woman in a Hindu majoritarian state and how the voices of certain minorities have been silenced throughout Indian history, particularly in West Bengal ever since the 1947 partition.
FII: You have, over the past few years, used your poetry to both raise awareness about and protest against the Islamophobia propagated by the ring wing in our country. Would you like to shed some light on what your writing journey has been like?
Moumita: I began my poetic journey after 2019. In 2019, on the 5th of August, the abrogation of Article 370 happened. I had a friend who lived in Kashmir, so I lost connection with him. He was an aspiring advocate who would regularly speak with me. I, as a teacher and a single mother, would share my life journey with him in return. But in 2019, when I could no longer talk to him, a sense of guilt began haunting me — how could a land become a prison where the people couldn’t even make a phone call to the ones in the outside world?
At some point in time, I thought of writing a letter to him, but receiving a letter from here could land him in trouble. He was much younger than me but was my only friend who would listen to my feelings, my happiness, my sorrows. So, I began writing.
I am against the use of the term “migrant labourers,” because India is our own country, so how can its citizens be called migrants? — to come on the grounds and walk for miles and miles to reach their homes.
Moumita Alam
That same year, in December 2019, the Anti-CAA-NRC movement started and we suddenly became aware of our religious identities. Everyone around me would ask me, “Are you legal? Are you a Bangladeshi?” But, believe me, I was born and raised in West Bengal. I have never even seen or visited Bangladesh. Every Muslim I know — whether practising or non-practising — was being asked this question. So, after my Kashmiri friend, I lost my other friends too because their questions would hurt me. I wrote about those feelings too.
Source: Moumita Alam’s FB
And then again in March 2020, we saw how the unplanned lockdown forced the workers of the unorganised sector — I am against the use of the term “migrant labourers,” because India is our own country, so how can its citizens be called migrants? — to come on the grounds and walk for miles and miles to reach their homes. I could not sleep for days because I live in a village and many of my relatives and fellow villagers used to work in Kerala and Delhi as labourers. So, I also started to write poems about their plights and sufferings.
One of my friends asked me to send my poems for publication, which had never crossed my mind because I stay far away from Delhi and its so-called “English literary circle.” But I still emailed a publisher who agreed to publish and then, my first and only book, The Musings of the Dark came out in August 2020.
FII: Since your poems usually focus on the theme of gendered Islamophobia or the issues that Muslim women face in our country, what is it like being a Muslim woman in a country governed by the right-wing?
Moumita: In 2021, I got to know that a few right-wing fanatics had created an app to sell Muslim women and had named it ‘Bulli Bai.’ I was so disturbed after reading the news about this because this is such a heinous thing to do — how can anyone do this in a democratic country like India?
So, I wrote this poem, “I am a Muslim woman and I am not for sale.” This poem was translated into many languages — in Telugu, Assamese, Bengali, Tamil, Kannada, and others — and was also published on various platforms.
If you follow the news, you would know that in 2022, hijab was banned in schools across the country. Even if I don’t wear hijab, you can’t ban other women who do from getting an education. As women, we are a minority in many ways — first, as Muslims in this country and then, because of our gender. We have to bargain our choices and sometimes, we have to compromise in front of our families by saying, “I will work hard, I will wear a hijab, please let me go to the doors of education.”
When a man is interpreting religious scriptures for you, he will — whether consciously or unconsciously — view religion through a patriarchal lens. They might not allow us to gain an understanding of the equal rights that Islam gives to Muslim women.
Moumita Alam
After becoming independent, I, as a Muslim woman, can decide for myself whether or not I wish to wear a hijab. But, you can’t put a blanket ban on hijab like that.
While I do write poems on the rising Islamophobia in our country, I also write about the oppression we Muslim women face within our own communities. Look, our society is based on patriarchal notions which means that even a lot of religious preachers are men. When a man is interpreting religious scriptures for you, he will — whether consciously or unconsciously — view religion through a patriarchal lens. They might not allow us to gain an understanding of the equal rights that Islam gives to Muslim women.
FII: Have you ever faced censorship for having political themes and highlighting the various injustices particularly on the basis of religion, in your work?
Moumita: Thankfully, we still have some platforms that provide a space to people like me where we can raise our voices. I am thankful to the Editor of LiveWire, who recently resigned. She was an immense pillar of support for me because she never censored my work — she either accepted it or denied it from being published, but never censored it. Even the Editor of Outlook is brilliant that way.
Source: Moumita Alam’s FB
Sometimes, however, my poems get rejected by other platforms because they say my work is too political, but I think we are living in a time during which one can’t be apolitical. If you are, then you are indirectly standing with people who are unleashing injustice towards minorities.
FII: As a poet who writes in both English and Bengali, you have often talked about how the voices of certain minorities have been neglected even within Bengali literature and poetry — an example of which can be the Marichjhapi massacre in 1979. Is there anything that you would like to discuss about the domination of certain elite classes and castes in Bengal?
Moumita: You might have noticed that for the non-Bengalis, West Bengal is equal to Kolkata — all of Bengal is just Kolkata for most people who aren’t from Bengal. This suggests a very Kolkata-centric attitude that most people have about Bengal. The literary world is, of course, not an exception — it’s so Kolkata-centric that people like me who are living in the margins find it almost impossible to reach the centre that is Kolkata.
Also, the Bengali literary world has been dominated by upper-class, upper-caste people for a very long time. So, they write about only those issues that they know about and that suit their narrative. Things are changing, some voices are getting spaces. However, we still have a long way to go. »
FII: When we usually talk about the India-Pakistan partition, the discussion inevitably gets centred around the division of what is present-day Punjab with little being said about how the refugees of Bengal, particularly the oppressed even among the displaced, were impacted. As someone who has written articles on this theme for both English and Bengali publications, can you tell us a little about your understanding of the same?
Moumita: Yes, I agree with you that the pains and sufferings of the Bengali refugees haven’t found expression in the so-called mainstream literature, particularly English literature. When I’m talking about “Bengali,” I mean both Hindus and Muslims. The plights of the oppressed class like the Namasudra community who were forced to migrate to West Bengal from the then East Pakistan is missing from the literary narrative. Equally, even the traumas and voices of the Muslims who stayed back while the other members migrated to East Pakistan are missing from the literary imagination.
Source: Moumita Alam’s FB
Most importantly, after partition, no political establishment tried to heal the wounds of the refugees. We all understand how the various European governments attempted to heal the wounds of the holocaust survivors after the second world war, but the same did not happen in India, even though the partition is often compared to the Holocaust.
Instead, every political party tried to gain political mileage from the religious fault lines. If I am not mistaken, nothing much has yet been written about internal migration. How many partition museums do we have?
FII: Every time your poems about the Babri Masjid demolition or about Kashmir get published, there are a lot of derogatory things that are often said by right-wing people— such as a lot of Kashmiri Pandits who end up claiming that their own stories need to be heard over yours. Since you have been doing what you believe in for so many years, is there any advice that you’d like to give to the young girls of our country about how they can voice their thoughts fearlessly even when they are intimidated?
Moumita: We are living in a critical juncture of time. As witnesses of this time, we can’t let the fascists win. How are they winning? They are winning through their narrative — a narrative of hatred towards minorities, towards women. We have to tell our own stories, we have to counter their narrative by our narrative.
So, here is my message for all women:
I wish you,
Oh women,
A savage fury
To throw all the
Dos and don’ts
Under a ravaging bus.
And begin from the beginning
All-new, all equal.»
FII: You write and publish your creative works and political thoughts as a freelancer, which means there is very little for you to gain from it as a poet. If anything, your poems and articles have mostly just led people to threaten you. What is it that motivates you to continue writing even when things don’t entirely work in your favour?
Moumita: Silence is not an option. The hatred that engulfed my friends still haunts me. I am a villager and I know how common people are suffering every day. The silence of the intellectual people saddens me. I want to jolt them, wake them up from their hibernation.
I am a villager and I know how common people are suffering every day. The silence of the intellectual people saddens me. I want to jolt them, wake them up from their hibernation.
Moumita Alam
You know, potatoes are the only profitable crop in my village. This year, the poor farmers incurred a heavy loss and couldn’t repay the loans they had to take from private microfinance companies at heavy interest rates. I asked a very old farmer how they plan to survive after this loss? And he replied, “Next year we will get some profit.” I was just amazed at his belief and relentlessness. I believe we can bring a change. We have to hope because we don’t have any other option.
The interview has been paraphrased and condensed for clarity.
source: http://www.feminisminindia.com / Feminism In India / Home> Interview / by Upasana Dandano / June 09th, 2023
In an event held at the Highland Islamic Forum (HIF) Auditorium in the city, the Highland Islamic Forum (HIF) unveiled a new book titled ‘Big B,’ a tribute to the late SM Basheer.
Subtitled ‘A Bond Beyond Brotherhood,’ the book is centered around the inspirational thoughts and life of Late SM Basheer.
Addressing the gathering at the book launch, NA Muneer, Ex-Chairman of the Kuwait Kerala Muslim Association (KKMA), shared memories of his association with SM Basheer. Muneer spoke about the charismatic personality and powerful aura that SM Basheer possessed, leaving a lasting impact on everyone who met him.
Recalling his memories, Muneer emphasized that even a year after SM Basheer’s passing, he continues to remember and honor the late leader. He praised SM Basheer’s instrumental role in organizing significant events at KKMA and acknowledged his invaluable contributions to the organization while serving as its chief.
Fatah Tayyil, Ex-President of KKMA, also paid tribute to SM Basheer, acknowledging his substantial contributions to the KKMA.
SM Rasheed, Chairman of Bearys Chamber of Commerce and Industries (BCCI), spoke about SM Basheer’s profound influence on people’s lives and commended his contributions to the BCCI.
Other speakers, including Mohammed Ali Uchchil and Rizwan Pandeshwar, shared their views on the life and impact of SM Basheer during the event.
The book ‘Big B’ was released by AK Niyaz, MD of AK Group of Companies, along with HIF India President Adil Parvez, and other guests present at the event.
Hussain Shafi, the author of the book, was felicitated by HIF for his contributions.
HIF also presented a documentary-style short video introducing SM Basheer and showcasing his life.
Prominent figures such as SM Basha, MD of SM Group of Companies, SM Farooq, KK Abdullah, officials, and executive members of KKMA and BCCI graced the occasion.
The event, hosted by AK Shaaz, concluded with supplications led by Moulana Tayyub, Khateeb Ehsan Masjid.
source: http://www.varthabharati.in / Vartha Bharati / Home> Karavali / by Vartha Bharati / December 01st, 2023
A peek into a precious wardrobe of strange outfits that are fast becoming invisible from Delhi evenings.
Ghararas, too, are fast becoming invisible from Delhi evenings, although Rakhshanda Jalil is often spotted wearing it in literary gatherings.(Mayank Austen Soofi / HT Photo)
The other day, we spot a strange outfit. It is neither a skirt, nor a gown, and definitely not a sari. It is also not a pajama.
What is it, we ask.
“It is gharara,” says author Rakhshanda Jalil, pronouncing the ‘gh’ from the base of the throat.
We are at Ms Jalil’s home in central Delhi. Her most precious wardrobe is a treasure-house of about two dozen ghararas. Most have been passed on to her from her mother and mother’s mother; a few are even older.
Indeed, Ms Jalil has a fascination for souvenirs of the past. One of her many books is titled Invisible City: The Hidden Monuments of Delhi. Ghararas, too, are fast becoming invisible from Delhi evenings, although Ms Jalil is often spotted wearing it in literary gatherings.
Years ago, she had worn a pink gharara for her wedding. Her two young daughters also wear it on during special occasions such as… well, weddings, particularly in Uttar Pradesh, where more people are likely to be similarly attired.
It is not unusual in Delhi weddings to see women in gharara’s sister dresses, such as the lehenga and the sharara — which is like flared pants. The gharara is more complicated. Each leg is comprised of two parts. The first goes down from the waist to the knee, and the second, which is much wider, begins from the knee and goes down to the foot.
Truth be told, Ms Jalil prefers saris and trousers for ordinary outings. But the gharara was the daily costume of her maternal grandmother, Zahida Suroor, who lived in the university town of Aligarh. “In my grandmother’s time, it was common for women to wear cotton ghararas made of chintz (called chheent by Urdu speakers) at home,” says, Ms Jalil. “Silk or satin ghararas were worn on formal occasions. And the heavy brocade, called kamkhaab, was worn at weddings.”
Each gharara should have its own kameez and dupatta, though these days one has more liberty to mix and match. Ms Jalil says that back in the day an entire gharara was sewn in four or five days. Each piece was stitched by hands. The entire hem was turned in with tiny invisible stitches. Sparkling bits of gold lace were tagged to camouflage the joints at the knees.
Ms Jalil’s mother, Mehjabeen, recently hand-stitched a red gharara for her. The happy daughter gave it a trial run at a dinner in her own home. There was much applause. The gharara came with a short white shirt. The red dupatta was lined with gold frills.
In the old days, women of a family gathered together to sew a gharara if it had to be made for a bride’s trousseau. Neighbours and friends also chipped in. Opinions were eagerly sought on the design, and the leftover cloth was never thrown away — it was used to make an accompanying batua (wallet), or jootis (sandals).
There was a time when a few cities were known to make special types of ghararas, says Ms Jalil. Benares was famous for its brocade ghararas, with master-weavers painstakingly transporting the design to lighter gauzier material for the accompanying dupatta. Lucknow favoured a patchwork design called chatapati. Delhi specialized in something called ‘farshi’, with a long train that women were supposed to hold delicately in their arms.
Perhaps the most ideal way to study this old-world costume is to ask the wearer to sit still. On request, Ms Jalil settles down beside a window with an Eric Segal novel. While the book belongs to her elder daughter, Aaliya, the gharara belongs to her great grandmother. Made of atlas (no relation to the book of maps), the fabric is so fragile that it can tear at the slightest tug. It has a blue background with yellow, orange and pink flowers. At one point, Ms Jalil looks out of the window. Her gharara ceases to be a dying tradition, and seems very much a part of the present.
source: http://www.hindustantimes.com / Hindustan Times / Home> News> Cities>Delhi News / by Hindustan Times / by Mayank Austin Soofi / October 09th, 2017
